Thursday begins the journey for Wolf's future. At high noon I will march into an office and speak to the value of CHYC for Wolf now, and the importance of appropriate services in the coming months and years.
The meeting is one by which all State of Alaska caseworkers, service providers, and clinicians gather together to talk about their current case load. Sometimes they invite parents of "hard to place" children. I'm still not altogether clear on my expected behavior at this high-powered powwow. Should I fall on my knees and beg the State not to bring my son home until they can guarantee his health and safety (believe me, I've thought about it)? Do I put on my social services hat and remind them that they agreed to be responsible for said child's health and safety when they accepted him into the State's Medicaid program in order to allow for his admission in to CHYC? I've thought long and hard about my approach, and one thing keeps bugging me and gnawing at my sense of logic.
None of these people have ever met my son. Not one. Ever. And all the positive intentions and warm fuzzies about providing Wolf with appropriate services if the State decides to discontinue paying for his treatment will mean nothing if they cannot make the effort to know him. Not just about him; but HIM.