Friday, March 22, 2013

Conservatorship and the Boddhisatva


I drove to Pasadena this morning for the second meeting of the process of conservatorship. For those of you not in the know -- isn't that a weird phrase? -- since Sophie turned eighteen, The Husband and I have to formally apply to the state to become Sophie's guardians. The process involves, basically, stripping her of her rights to make life decisions, including medical, sexual, partnership, etc. for herself. Fortunately, there's a wonderful organization here in Los Angeles called Bet Tzedek that runs clinics and helps you to do the necessary paperwork, reams of it. The people who work for Bet Tzedek are extremely helpful, sensitive and caring individuals and make the whole process a piece of cake.

Well, maybe not a piece of cake. Given the strange and wondrous workings of my own brain, my take on the process is perhaps more perverse than cake and I periodically have to yank myself back into the present as I check off boxes, date pages and sign my name. I sat at a little table in a busy courthouse building with five other people each doing the same thing while an elderly lady walked around peering over our shoulders, a handy bottle of White-out (have ya'll seen the new White-out because I hadn't and it's magical!) in her hand to erase errant marks and typos. There was a Vietnamese couple across from me, applying for twins and next to me sat an African American man applying for conservatorship of his second child. Next to him was an African American woman in a wheelchair and next to her an Hispanic couple, with myself rounding out the Syrian/Italian/Scotch English ancestry. We were a veritable kaleidoscope, and all of us there for the same purpose! On about page 657, each of us read and checked for accuracy a paragraph describing our children's limitations which had been drawn from a questionnaire that we had filled out on the first visit. The paragraph about Sophie listed, literally, everything that she could not do, and let me tell you, Reader, it takes some serious dissociation to read that list for accuracy and sign your name with a flourish. She cannot clean herself. She cannot use the bathroom. She cannot talk. She cannot take her medication safely. She wanders and is confused. Etc. Literally, everything you can think of.

That's where my wild and wonderful brain steps in for my heart and does circus gymnastics alongside the other members of the rainbow coalition around that table in the courthouse in Pasadena.

Afterward, I wandered about the beautiful streets of Pasadena and into an Asian museum that was completely empty of people but whose rooms were filled with cases of ancient Bodhisattvas, their thousands of years old faces staring serenely out at me in my circus garb. I stood for a long time in front of the one above until my costume fell away, I wriggled out of my leotard, kicked off my big red shoes and stood there, naked, my heart beating steadily in the dim light.

19 comments:

  1. That last sentence. Gasp.

    Oh, Elizabeth. I am glad you are Sophie's and that she is yours. You will do what is necessary, and find the poetry somehow. This is so vivid, I might have been there. It's all so surreal.

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  2. This sounds like a grueling, grievous experience. To have to go over every thing she cannot do in such detail sounds painful, but I can see that somewhere, there is a legal need for such information in order to make the transition from child to adult care. I am so glad that you are able to take care of Sophie (imagine those who have no one who will be their conservator?) but am so sorry that the process has to rub salt into every soft and tender place. How wise you were to take time and visit the Boddhisatvas afterward. Bless your heart!

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  3. Angella said it perfectly. I too am so glad that Sophie has you for her mom.
    I hope this process passes quickly without any problems.

    xo

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  4. started following your blog after reading it on Maggies...my daughter Hannah Grace is also going to be 18yo in July, we live in MD interesting to read what you are going through since we just started this journey
    http://joansblessings.blogspot.com/

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  5. What a gift this organization provides! I love that they are there for you and other families like yours. And I don't think it's a coincidence that the boddhisatvas are so near.

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  6. I will send you an e-mail about this when I get the chance. Best of luck with everything.

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  7. The organization has an interesting name. Actually, it's Beit Tzedek. It means (in Hebrew) House of Righteousness. It seems like a good name for what they do.

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  8. Thank you, SK3. I changed the spelling to reflect what is on Bet Tzedek's informational materials.

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  9. What a process. Thank goodness Sophie has you. And thank goodness you found the bodhisattva to commune with afterwards.

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  10. What Karen said: "but am so sorry that the process has to rub salt into every soft and tender place."

    Here's another Issa haiku that struck me, yesterday:

    "In this world
    we walk on the roof of hell,
    gazing at flowers."

    - Kobayashi Issa

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  11. I couldn't even comment last night on this. My heart was too full. Sometimes when I read your words, I am humbled to the point of speechlessness. Not just your story, Elizabeth, but your words. That last sentence felt like the most honest, true thing I'd ever read and it knocked the tears right out of my heart and through my eyes which once again, you have opened wide.

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  12. I love Leslie's poem to you, so beautiful and true.

    Having to quiet your heart in order to persevere while filling out forms that seem to take the very soul away from our children does feel like a kind of hell.

    Interesting too how disability does not discriminate and you were surrounded by so many from every walk of life. There is a kind of brotherhood in sharing such pain. Would have loved to hear what they all were thinking too.

    I do not believe that it is a coincidence that you were comforted by the beautiful city and of course the bodhisattva who seemed to radiate peace, serentity and love. Please know that I am thinking of you and sending you peace during this difficult process. xo

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  13. This just stunned me with its beauty. That is all.

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  14. I wish I lived nearby and could have taken you out drinking afterwards. Good LORD!

    Sending love and humor, wherever and however you can find it!

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  15. i lived in pasedena when I was 26 and remember it the exact way you describe it.... i'm glad that it's beauty was available to you after your conservatership "experience" which is the only polite way I can think of to describe what you went thru.

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  16. Beautiful picture. I'm so glad your Sophie has you and your husband as parents!

    Greetings from London.

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  17. i'm with you, sister. know that. xoxo

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