Gaslighting

 Fighting with Tricare is quickly becoming a job that I am not being paid for.  Our admissions director just called, and updated us on where we stand in our current situation.  Tricare is still trying to deny that ViaMar is certified as a residential facility.  All while there are other MILITARY families with children as patients at ViaMar.  Both myself, and ViaMar have received letters stating they are denying our request for care.  I am so confused and frustrated at this moment.  

It is time to call in the big guns.  I did a little digging, and found the email for the representative for our congressional district.  Quite a few people have suggested I reach out and that they could be of service. So I reached out to Lois Frankel of District 18 in Florida. This is the letter I sent:

Good morning,

I am reaching out as a parent, my husband is in the Navy and currently deployed.  Our oldest child, is anorexic and desperately in need of care immediately.  We have done the work for him to get a referral for a facility here in Palm Beach County, ViaMar. Our pediatrician sent in the referral to Tricare for them to approve, unfortunately, Tricare is denying residential care based upon a mistake they made.  They are claiming the facility is not certified for this level of care through Tricare.  This is a gross oversight on their part.  The facility is in fact certified as a residential treatment center through Tricare/Humana insurance.  They have all the paperwork necessary to show this is indeed the case.  Tricare continues to drag their feet on this life or death situation concerning my child and his mental and physical health needs.  Please, as my representative for our district, help us.  I have been told that you could be very helpful in this situation, that a phone call from you and your office would help Tricare to move more quickly to right this situation and grant my child access to the care he needs and deserves.  As a military family, it is heartbreaking that those who are supposed to have our best interest at heart, actually do not.  While my husband is away serving his country, medical care is being withheld from our child.  I sincerely hope you take a moment to look into this situation and find a way to help us. 

Thank you.

Here is the problem, I just received a basic out of office auto reply from her, basically telling me to stay safe from COVID.  As though that is the problem I am dealing with right now. Now I do realize that Congresswoman Lois Frankel is probably entirely too busy to actually read my email herself.  I get that.  However, I would hope it would get passed on to someone else.  It feels like that will not be happening.  There is a phone number, to reach out to her staff, which I plan to call shortly.  

This entire process has left me continually disappointed, frustrated, and in tears countless times.  I would have cried this morning, except I had a face mask on and it wasn't ready to be washed off.  

I have said this I don't know how many times, BUT WHY IS THIS SO DIFFICULT??  It shouldn't be this hard.  

Tricare, I am ABSOLUTELY looking at you right now.  You are dragging your feet, you are leaving my child to dangle out here in the wind.  Life or death clearly means nothing to you.  We hang on your every whim.  You gaslight and manipulate. You're like that hot guy everyone wants, you choose a girl you think will do whatever you want the moment you whisper her name.  Then you wink and tell her you will call her later, which in Tricare language, means you will deny you ever knew us.  You need to do better.  

Much Love (except Tricare)

Infinity Wars

 It has been a bit since I last wrote anything here, but we do have some news.  Good and somehow bad at the same time.  We got the call about a week and a half ago that a bed had opened up for my S18 AN at the facility that we have been hoping to get him into.  It is local, which is so important.  I feel for these parents who end up having to send their kid out of state, one parent moving to stay near their child in treatment, while the other is left behind to hold down the fort.  

He was to be admitted the day after Easter, a mere 4 days away. Which led to the mad scramble to get everything done, a negative COVID test, and the referral for Tricare to approve.  We went in for the test, and while there I hovered over the physicians assistant to make sure she put in the proper wording.  Medical necessity.  Highest level of care.  Meaning he NEEDS residential, 24 hour, round the clock, supervision and care to make sure he can be well again.  

Then came the waiting.  COVID test was negative, of course.  I was in constant contact with the wonderful admissions director at ViaMar, she made sure I knew that as soon as she knew anything, she would send word.  Tricare was/has been taking their sweet time.  I write calmly, but inside I am enraged.  

Easter weekend passed, my son worked the majority of it, but I made sure he had an amazing Easter dinner. Friday morning, I made an Easter brunch for a few friends, I made a raspberry danish, egg souffle in puffed pastry, fresh fruit, and candy.  Saturday evening we had our dinner, ham, I made a bourbon honey glaze, rolls, potatoes au gratin, roasted green beans, and my most requested homemade macaroni and cheese.  Sunday we went to our friend's house, he came after work, and there was so much more delicious food.  And candy, always candy. ALL THE CANDY.  

  I do want to mention that over the weekend we had a breakdown.  Saturday night, he came into my room, to talk about ViaMar.  I had wanted to anyway, as admission was only a couple of days away and he hadn't packed a thing.  I asked if he had everything he needed, more comfy pants, any hoodies, anything to help him feel comfortable.  This was not why he had come in.  He was/is terrified.  He is worried about how much they are going to make him eat, how long will he have to stay?  He is imagining he will be there 3+ months, which feels like forever.  There is also the issue of his phone.  Will he be allowed to have it, allowed access to it maybe a few times a day? His girlfriend doesn't live near us at the moment, and the phone is their lifeline.  He tried to tell me he didn't NEED to go, he could do it at home.  He would get up earlier, he would eat plenty, and get well.  At home.  

After much discussion, I convinced him we would go in, we would talk with admissions, so he could get an idea of what was going to happen.  Getting well at home isn't an option. If it was, my efforts these past 7 months would have completely taken care of the ED.  He needs professional help that I cannot give him.  

Monday rolled around, and we heard nothing.  I was willing to give a bit of leniency as we were coming off Easter weekend.  The director assured me again, that as soon as she knew something, we would be off and running and get him admitted.  Tuesday came, I was getting frustrated again, so I dug around and after a LOT of effort, managed to get into his Tricare file online.  Referral DENIED.  I saw red.  We did everything we were supposed to, I made certain the referral said all the right things.  WHY?! So I got on the phone.  I called Tricare, was hung up on, called back.  Had to have my son give verbal consent for me to talk, since he is 18 years old.  I finally spoke to someone and asked why were we denied.  Tricare informed me that Viamar is not authorized for residential care.  Seriously?!?  We were told months ago they were, we went through hell and high water, to get referrals, to get all the information needed.  We were told that ViaMar was in network, and now they were not?? I asked how could this be fixed, could we get a one time authorization? I was transferred to a higher level of authority, only to find I had to leave a message.  

Everything that we have been through, the hoops I have jumped through, fiery and otherwise, only to be reduced to "leave a message after the tone".  

I would be lying if I said I didn't cry.  Out of anger, out of sadness.  That what we need, what our son needs, was once again being denied.  

A few hours later, I received an email for the director at ViaMar.  She has also been told by Tricare that we had been denied.  Because they were not certified for residential.  I am SO thankful, that we have this woman in our corner.  She was livid.  And immediately jumped into action.  ViaMar, has in fact, been certified with Tricare for residential care for at least a decade.  They have all the documents proving this point.  Calls were immediately made, and Tricare was proven to be in the wrong.  They "apologized", if you can call it that, and said they would begin working on remedying the situation.  Did I mention, this could take TWO WEEKS?? Two weeks, 14 days longer, of my son not getting the help he needs and deserves, because someone screwed up.  His health does not matter to Tricare.  It is absolutely foolish to believe that these insurance entities have anyone's best interest at heart.  

We are reminded all the time, the enormity of the planet we live on.  And each of us, when put into perspective, are but a tiny speck in a vast universe.  Factor in the immensity of the fact that our health and lives are truly held captive by those in charge of medical insurance, and what services they deem necessary for our survival? This is the moment we all disappear.  

In other words, the medical insurance gods are our Thanos.  Snapping their fingers and ending the lives of those they don't regard as worthy.  

Talking To Myself

 Since this seems to be, for the most part simply where I get my thoughts and feelings out, that is exactly what I am going to use this for.  If I have readers, you are getting me as I am.  

I am tired of all of this.  I work so hard every single day.  My brain works overtime. I wake up at 2am, wondering how my S18 AN is, if he is ok, is he cutting, did he leave, is he going to try and kill himself? Did he eat enough today? Is his body going to shut down?

I have all of these things I want to do, but can't because everything I do revolves around my three teenage children.  Driving them places, back and forth.  All the time.  Work, school, football.  I told them last night, they are completely spoiled, we live barely a mile from their high school, I see kids walking every single day to and from school.  Yet, I get up at 6am and wake them, get them moving, dressed, fed, pile them into the car and drive them to school.  Dutifully picking them up, my daughter at 2:38pm, and then my son, who plays football, at 6pm.  And my S18AN, he works so I take him to work, and then pick him up around 10, or 11pm depending upon whether he is the closing manager for the night.  

I need help, but the husband is deployed, and I am it.  We don't have space for anyone to come help, I am just tired.  I try and do everything for everyone.  EVERYTHING.  I don't know how to stop. More than anything I just want to be seen and appreciated.

I am a broker, and I desperately need to be successful, but in order to do that, you need connections.  This is so hard when you have just moved somewhere new, and don't know anyone.  They tell you to utilize your sphere.  I don't have one.  I tried to join a women's local friend group, but apparently I was too big of a threat to the group's creator.  She wanted to be the only realtor in the group, and told me I couldn't talk about what I did, even though I had been with this group for several months.  What happened to women supporting each other, why do we need to be in competition? She kicked me out, because I didn't agree that I should keep my mouth shut.   

Part of me would like to share what has been going on in our lives.  Not because I want pity, but because I have sat on this for so long and it's hard to feel like I am enduring this on my own.  Although doing that will invite people to give their opinions, and questions, and phone calls.  It will open the world to judge my son, and us.  I don't have the mental capacity to deal with that. There are friends and family members who are aware, but not everyone for various reasons.  Did I mention I am tired?  I need to work, I need to be here, where is the balance??

Much Love                                            

Me, in black and white

 I feel like I should talk a little about me, beyond the childhood trauma that led to my own personal ED battle.  So who am I? Besides the crazed mother of 3, one of whom has a raging case of anorexia? I am a wife.  Have been for almost 21 years now.  I love every minute of it, we fit and it's perfect. 

 I am a friend. I like to think I am a pretty good one.  If you know me, I am loyal, and I love.  HARD.  It may be why I give chances.  Lots of them.  I view humanity as a lovely flawed mess, and I am part of that mess.  We are a wonderful, crazy bunch.  

I am a broker, a real estate agent.  Not quite brand new, I have been at this for a year.  I know it can take a while to become successful, and I am working at it.  Maybe not as hard as I could, I am solo parenting it at the moment, the husband is in the military (that is all the info I am giving about that) and I have three, THREE teenage children.  So there is driving, dropping, feeding, waiting.  All the time.  I want to have a successful career as a realtor.  Do you know what that takes?  What exactly that entails?  As a military spouse, that is more difficult than you think.  You have to have contacts.  My contacts are all over the US.  If you want to be successful, you need contacts where you live.  People who are willing to talk about you, willing to suggest you to their friends.  For whatever reason, I don't have that.  I never have.  I tried to sell Pink Zebra, its like Scentsy, but not.  I tried to sell Traveling Vineyard, you know, wine.  I COULD NOT SELL WINE.  So now I am trying to sell homes.  Hopefully I do better with that than one of my favorite beverages.  

I have a degree in Psychology.  I know I have mentioned that before.  I am about 3/4 of the way finished with my behavioral health tech certification, from there I want to go after my Masters in Mental Health Counseling.  My S18AN said I should get my Ph.D.  I worry it's too late to do all of that.  Do I want my doctorate? Do I want 6 more years of school at least, not including internships?

I want to open a retreat.  One that is solely for women.  A beautiful retreat with bungalows, with a community garden, chickens, horses.  A lazy river, and a lovely pool.  It will cater to women who want to regroup, relax, recharge, either on their own, or with their friends.  There will be a restaurant, with amazing farm to table food, and organic cocktails.  A day spa, and pilates! And at the very back of the property, tiny houses for women who need help, who are running from domestic abuse, or in need of mental health assistance.  Because I could be the mental health counselor on staff.

I love to read, although I don't really have time to do this leisurely these days.  The beach is my favorite place, and occasionally I like to shop.  For clothing, not groceries.  Horses are my favorite animal, and I adore horseback riding.  I wish I could travel more.  I love art and theater, ballet is beautiful and graceful.  

And I LOVE cooking and baking.  It is something I like to think I am pretty good at. Don't ask me to make pancakes from scratch.

There is a lot more, but I think this gives you a little bit about who I am.  Sometimes I need to step outside of what feels like it is consuming my entire world.  Have a question, ask!  

Much Love

Hope?

 Lets call this one The Hope Post! We don't always know when hope is right around the corner.  Things can look bleak at best, as it did for us at the beginning of this week.   But things are good.  Treatment is going well, and I am so proud of my son for doing this.  It is incredibly hard I can't go see him, but they have a no visitors policy in place due to a certain illness.  The 10 minute daily phone calls however, totally make my day.

He seems to be doing well, the food isn't the best, I got a very strong "EH" when I asked about it, and he misses my cooking.  I know they are giving him Ensure to drink, which is fairly typical for someone with an ED to make certain they get at least some of the nutrition they need.  As long as things continue to go well, he should be able to come home on Monday.  His psychiatrist has put him on Prozac and has already upped the dosage because he was doing so well on the initial dose.  From here I would imagine a team will be put together to work on the AN and his mental health issues.  Monday should be interesting to say the least.  He did ask what was for dinner that night, and since it is Valentines Day, it will most likely be dinner out.  Something fun to plan for.  But also something to potentially worry about.  

This feels like the first steps on a long road to recovery.  I would love to say this will be the one and only time we find ourselves in this situation.  It would be delusional of me though to think we couldn't end up here again.  For my S18AN, the cutting seems to be triggered by hopelessness. When he feels things are not getting better, when he feels like the support from the professionals is deeply missing, he cuts.  Usually superficially. That isn't always the case, nor will it always be the case.  I am hoping (there is that word hope again) they are helping him find other means of coping with this desire to self harm. I have read several ways to do this.  Rubber bands to snap, taping up the tools they use so when they feel the need they have to take the time to get the tape off, and then usually by the time they do, they don't want to, or need to.  I am  not sure this would work properly as he has taken to dismantling razors he uses to shave with to get the blade to cut.  Talk about patience.  

In spite of all of that, all the unknowns, I have hope.  And that is what I am going to focus on for now.

Much love 

Help Wanted

 I had to do one of the hardest things in my life late Sunday night.  I had to take my S18AN into the ER and Baker Act him.  If you are unfamiliar with that term, it means to put someone under a 72 hour psychiatric hold.  72 hours at the very least.  I thought we were doing well.  I thought he was eating enough, I watched him eat.  Sunday night, around 11:45pm, he came in and woke me up, to show me he had been cutting again.  He hasn't in quite a while, he has been happy, working, FaceTiming his girlfriend, and eating pizza and burritos.  

This time he had not only cut on his upper bicep, but had cut down closer to his wrist.  Deep cuts.  Deep enough I felt that they needed some attention.  Going into the ER, with self-harm, immediately means they will Baker Act the patient.  I asked him why, and he told me he wasn't getting any better.  He hadn't eaten anything on Sunday.  He weighs 121 pounds.  This was a cry for help.  This was my son desperate for someone to see him, and finally help him.  

We spent the night in a bed in the ER, the staff was kind, but we saw very little of them.  The ER we went to, doesn't have a psychiatric floor.  Maybe that was the reason, but no one came in to bandage his arm.  I watched his blood pressure every time it was automatically taken, he was hypotensive, meaning he had low blood pressure.  I watched his heart rate drop low enough to set off the alarm on the monitor, no one came to do anything about it.  Not sure if there was anything that could be done though.  

The next morning, we were told he would be taken by ambulance at 9:30 to a treatment facility up in Stuart, Florida.  And that I couldn't go with him.  The hospital staff promised someone would call me and update me on what was going on.  So I ran home, so I could bring him contact lens solution, his case, his glasses. I brought him some clothes to change into and then kissed and hugged him goodbye.

It's now Tuesday afternoon.  I called the treatment facility at 10am.  The front desk person could not give me any information because I didn't have a 4 digit code.  How on earth would I have a code, when no one is calling me to tell me anything.  I left my name and number for the Nurses Desk to call me.  So I wait.  

This is hard, and it hurts.  I am worried, I know he is in a good place to begin to get the help he so desperately needs.  I just want to know what the treatment plan is, will he be staying past the initial 72 hours? Are they putting together a team to cover all of his bases? Is there going to be medication prescribed? I want them to make sure he is eating.  Eating heals the brain, what if they don't cover that? 

I am trying to trust that this is the beginning of healing.  

Hello Again

 I know it has been a while since I have written or shared anything here.  Next week is February which is so hard to believe.  We are exactly in the same place we were the last time.  I feel like all avenues are exhausted.  Maybe not, maybe I am just the tired one.  So many outbursts of anger, so many rude and just mean words being spoken.  My AN son is now 18, I don't know what that means at this point.  

All I feel right now is failure.  Exhaustion.  Hopeless.  I try and try and try, we have GREAT days, and then we have days like yesterday.  I was sick, stomach bug, food poisoning, maybe my body just cashing it in and saying enough, you overwork yourself so take a day.  I am kind of leaning towards the latter.  I came down to get more water, hydration is key when your body just releases everything, and he was sitting on the couch, I asked some questions, just average hey this happened, and whats going on, casual questions.  He flew off the handle, yelling, kicked the poor old dog, then immediately claimed he didn't.  The sink was full of dishes, the house a mess.  I said look I have been sick all day, really since the night before, and he just looked at me and said "I literally could care less about any of that, why are you even telling me"?  

I am just done.  Maybe tomorrow I will feel differently, and I know plenty of people will tell me it's the ED talking.  A sick brain.  Then he left to go for a walk.  A 3 hour walk.  If you are AN, you shouldn't exercise at all.  It burns up calories you just don't have to burn.  And a BIG part of me wanted to drive around and find him and cart his ass home.  But I didn't.  Why? Because he is 18, he wants to make these decisions, and I can't keep constantly coming behind him to rescue or clean up after him.  That is so hard for me to do.  How else will he learn though?  I know parents would disagree with me.  He is sick, he definitely has some mental health issues along with the ED.  Right now? All I feel like I represent to him is a place to sleep, food and transportation. It doesn't matter that I am literally killing myself to keep him alive.  It doesn't seem to matter I am single-handedly holding this house together, cleaning, cooking, bills, groceries and meals.  I hate feeling like this, I hate feeling whiny, I hate complaining.  

I want this space to be educational, for other parents going through this to feel heard, to have a voice.  Unfortunately with a disease like AN, there are so many bad days, it is hard to be positive and upbeat all the time.  I am constantly fighting to be positive.  To say affirmations, to speak great things into existence.  I don't know if there are actually any readers at this point, but I would love comments, anything to let me know I am not alone and falling apart for nothing.  

Much love