I would have updated y'all much earlier, but I was sick yesterday. Nothing like a fever when you're away from home to make you want your mommy, or at least your own bed. Oy. At any rate, today I feel almost human and spent the morning with Wolf and the details of his sooner-rather-than-later discharge.
Really. Sooner. Not later.
At a team meeting with the entire CHYC crew who has dilligently supported, cajoled, and figuratively kicked my son's fanny these past three years, we had on the line via telecon the powers that be from Alaska Medicaid and the new Group Home Wolf will soon call his home (we'll give it a name as soon as I think of something snappy). I was prepared for a "No, we don't think we can take him," or at least a "Let's wait a while longer," and was surprised when the general consensus seemed to be soon. Like in two weeks.
There is much to be done and many people to talk with, along with the mechanics of such a move with a kid who collects stuff like a racoon does shiny things. Wolf and I spent the morning making a list of questions to ask the Group Home clinical director and he was a trooper during the phone call, asking apporpriate questions and, I hope, alleviating some uneasiness of this move.
We also spent time writing thank-you notes to some very special people at CHYC who have been more like parents these past 36 months. I don't think the reality of moving hit until Wolf was writing the notes; very sweetly he listed the reasons he was thankful for these individuals and how he was going to try and "make every day a good day".
When I commented on his choice of words, Wolf said "See, I'm not a mean guy." Nope. Not at all.
I just hope the rest of the world will understand.
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