Thursday, March 14, 2013

How We Do It: Part XXV in a series



She came to the house in spiked heels to update Sophie's files. She is afraid of dogs, even white poodles. Her hair was streaked and her lashes thick with mascara, her cleavage generous. She lay the papers on the dining room table, looked up and smiled cheerfully.

So, now that Sophie is eighteen, have you thought about conservatorship? she asked.

Yes, I've already begun the filing, I answered, and she checked off a box. She has been coming to the house for these updates for more than three years.

We, too, will have to meet with you and the courts when you're ready to file, she said and I raised my eyebrows.

Our interest is, of course, that Sophie is treated like an adult and that her needs as an adult are met, she explained. She might have used different words, but her intent was to educate me.

I nodded and asserted that my interests were the same.

Well, you know, she added, are you prepared for something like Sophie meeting a man and perhaps falling in love and wanting to be married? 

I smiled back and explained that surely she remembered that Sophie's intellectual disabilities were such that falling in love and marriage were probably not in the future.

She placated me by stating that Sophie had dignity as a human being, and while she checked off another of her boxes, I took the hatchet that I carry in the back pocket of my jeans, raised it over her head and sliced right through the middle of the box that she'd checked, her magenta-tipped nails resting lightly on either side, the only evidence a thin swirl of white smoke obscuring her view.




26 comments:

  1. your inner life will save us all.

    i picture the magenta-nailed woman as a cartoon. (how dare she remind you of sophie's dignity as she checked her boxes.) but no matter. sophie sure knew what she was doing when she chose you as her mother.

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  2. Vivid and SO human. I love this.

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  3. I love this.

    I'm allowed to say I love this, right?

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  4. As the young folks say "Facepalm".

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  5. Yes, perfect. I have much to learn from you.

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  6. people like that absolutely appall me. sorry you had to deal with such ignorance and insensitivity!

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  7. "Bang, bang, Maxwell's silver hammer came down upon her head..."

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  8. Please forgive me for writing that I laughed out loud at this. I have raised a handicapped son and when I read this it brought back all the times I was just incredulous about what was being said to me - THE MOTHER - who knew more about this child than all the expects who filled out the forms for the once a year meeting while I lived with him 24 hours a day. I too had a quite the imagination about what to do to these totally useless individuals. Thank goodness for the few good ones, they kept me sane. I just loved this post, it left a wonderful picture in my mind.

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  9. the insidious evils of low-level workers in bureaucracies that forget the people they are supposed to be serving...you exhibited enormous restraint.

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  10. gosh, I was thinking you were going to bring the axe down on her head that contained the shell of her non-existent brain. But oh well, you did the next best thing.

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  11. Denise stole my comment.

    Asshat.

    And even though you didn't describe yourself in this post, I have to say that I saw you in a flowing cape with a beautiful mermaid crest on the breast.

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  12. I can't believe the indignity. I can't believe the spiked heels. (I mean, I do, but.)

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  13. I dealt with this very social worker in '06. Her midriff was exposed in her tight, scant sweater.

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  14. three years?
    and the hatchet was only just used today?
    where do these people come from?

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  15. Ouch.... three years? really?, you are a saint.

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  16. i have a little mental torture chamber for people who think they know my kid better than i do, who think they should give me advice when i don't ask for it.

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  17. My sarcastic self would have a lot to say to that poodle-fearing woman. It would be something along the lines of a pre-arranged marriage to a wealthy man from the middle east. Shock the hell out of her. And then let the dog out.

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  18. There have been so many folks in our lives who have professed to be more knowledgable of my son and his issues, than I. I have so little patience for them and I must say, I have felt similarly regrading the hatchet, although mine is a two-handed sword, and like your other commenters, it would not have been the box I would have checked! I laughed out loud when I read this.

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  19. Did this really happen?
    It makes me want to write a book compiled of such true medical/social worker horror stories. Short stories, with what did happen, what happened in our minds (complete with hatchet), and what would have happened in a perfect world - ending #1, #2, and #3, multiple choice endings for each story.
    What do you think? Could we make it into a training manual or training presentation?

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  20. the way you do it, is that you always have the right tool: sometimes a pen to write, sometimes a poem to read, a dream, or a hatchet, even.

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  21. Oh man I need to come back here more often :) xo

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  22. I'm gobbling up recent posts like a bag full of gorgeous cadbury eggs (since I'm such a lame blog reader), and this one is exquisite. beautiful language, searing sentiment, perfect anger. you amaze me, hatchet gal.

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