Court is irritating.

So today was supposed to be our pretrial conference, wherein the court would hear the evidence the county has about the neglect of our baby.

Instead, what happened was this:

1. The baby's mom told the social worker she was ready to consent to the accusations of neglect. [This is an eventual expected outcome anyway but would just speed up the process - and it's a total shift from where the mom was last time at court.]

2. The mom's smarmy, sleazy, scumbag lawyer showed up and took her aside for some whispering.

3. The mom's lawyer, dad's lawyer (who was there without the dad, who didn't show), the baby's brother's dad's lawyer, and the county attorney got called into the courtroom for a while.

4. The rest of us got to go into the courtroom, where they discussed, in total, the visitation issues the brother's dad and the grandma are having. The only mention of our baby was in regards to the skin condition shit, which is still somehow an issue. Oh, and the baby's law guardian spoke up and said that if the judge was going to allow the brother to have visits with his dad before his dad was treated (as a precautionary measure), she was going to ask the court that the sibling visits be stopped, because there is significant concern about exposing a child this young to the poison so many times, and because this baby also has eczema there's additional concern about it getting into her bloodstream. So that part was nice.

5. THE JUDGE ADJOURNED, ABRUPTLY.

6. I sat there going, "What? Wait, what? What just happened? Where are we going?" I talked to the worker later in the day and she told me that the mom's sleazeball lawyer talked the judge into setting ANOTHER hearing date, next Wednesday, and the mom will probably consent then. Likely reason: scumbag lawyer gets paid for a full day every time he makes a court appearance.

So I took half a day off of work to hear them barely even mention the case we were there to hear. Andy had to park ten blocks away and walk to the courthouse in a downpour and arrived just as the judge was adjourning, so all around we feel really fucking awesome about our court experience today.

Next Wednesday will be interesting - the baby has her six-month checkup that morning and now we have court in the afternoon, so there's another personal day down the tube. Cool.

To end on a positive note: we got a quart of perfect fresh strawberries in our CSA share today and it's lovely watching the rain, which is what I'm going to go do.

Diagnosis confirmed. Again.

Yup.

Since I was working from home anyway, I moved up my WIC appointment (that I was so happy to have been able to push back a month) because the pediatricians want us to try a hypoallergenic formula to see if it helps with the baby's spitting up and apparent reflux. So I got to sit in the WIC office with an itchy, fussy baby for an hour. That was cool.

I called and left a message yesterday for the baby's pediatrician to see what power they have to override the dermatologist. The pediatrician and worker agree that the baby is showing the exact same symptoms, etc., and that the dermatologist was probably wrong.

They called back this afternoon and asked me to bring the baby in to see how things were progressing, and to confirm that I was now showing symptoms. The worker met me there (again, because she is seriously busting her ass on this case - I already called her supervisor to praise her). The doctors saw whatever it was that they needed to in order to confirm it. They also called in their head doctor to consult, and she's putting it in writing that visits must be stopped until further notice. This is both a huge relief and another reason for me to worry, because the grandma is not going to take this well and will likely feel like we're trying to keep the baby from her.

Ugh. I've been going nonstop since the baby woke up (early and fussy), and I have nine million more things to do to disinfect the house again. But I'm beat and I haven't used the treatment cream yet, so vacuuming the couches wouldn't be useful if I was planning to sit on them again tonight, so I made brownies (stress baking for the win!) and am having a Pimm's Cup and am catching up with my Google Reader.

Well, the baby had a visit

with her grandma on Friday.

And Friday night she was really squirmy. Like she was when she was infected. I made Andy come in from another room to confirm it.

Saturday morning we saw telltale spots.

On Sunday we noted that they were worse. And the poor kid was off all weekend - in a cheerful mood then suddenly inconsolable. We tried to tell ourselves maybe she was teething, but the fussiness is the only sign of that, and it matches how she was when she was infected.

Yesterday I took the day off to take her to the doctor. The dermatologist who finally diagnosed her correctly told me he wanted her to be seen by his facility (even though I only trust him there) if she was symptomatic again, so I called them and got the run-around for three hours, and then when I was sort of a pushy bitch (which I HATE doing) they fit us in in the afternoon. With one of the doctors who misdiagnosed her.

Guess what she said.

It's not the skin condition. Even though it looks the same as it did the last three times. Even though Dr. Idiot agreed that it was the skin condition the first time, when it looked just like this. Even though it cleared up immediately after using the prescription all three times (Dr. Idiot: Oh, the cream's a moisturizer. Me, incredulous: I lotion the child twice a day. Dr. Idiot: Oh, okay. [long pause]). When pressed for some sort of diagnosis, she said maybe it's related to the baby's eczema. Which we have almost completely eradicated. And even though it only shows up immediately after a visit. The worker attended the visit with me, and agrees that the doctor is incompetent, but doesn't know what we can do because they are just about the only dermatologists in our county who take Medicaid.

So we didn't get treated, and naturally the baby is miserable. My plan is to wait until Andy and I are showing symptoms and then insist on being seen by the doctor who diagnosed her, or to just say "fuck it" and take the baby to our doctor and pay out of pocket for her. Because this is ridiculous. (I'm really grateful to be able to work from home for a few days while this is getting sorted out, because I'm not infecting the other kids at the baby's daycare on Dr. Idiot's word.)

Oh, and the worker told me that the grandma's planning to file for custody. It's really unlikely that she'll be successful, since the county isn't even trying to place the kid there at all right now, but still. Did we really need another complication here? Christ.

I'm fucking discouraged right now, you guys. I just want to help this baby, who I love like my own, and the goddamn red tape is making that really fucking hard.

P.S. I was going to go through and hyperlink to all the shit about her appointments and misdiagnoses and shit, but I'm fucking tired from trying to work from home while holding an uncomfortable baby who also wanted to help me type. So, you know, check the archives (try the "gross gross gross" tag) and sorry I'm not bothering.

Life continues and I'm glad it's the weekend

Hello, the internets!

This was a busy week and I'm still tired. Being in training at work sort of fries my brain so I have less energy to deal with other stuff, like the new thing where the county says that if the baby's grandma and brother don't have visible symptoms, they aren't contagious, which is total horseshit, since they didn't have visible symptoms at their visit last week and the baby sure as shit got reinfected.

So even though I'm fried, I already have two doctors - my primary care physician and the dermatologist who finally diagnosed her correctly - to refute that claim willing to write letters or make phone calls on our behalf. I don't know if it was a dick move to go above the county's head like that, but hey, I'm not trying to go through this shit a fourth time.

Tonight I think we're going to dinner with Andy's parents, and then I plan to have at least two beers and get some solid sleep. (Fun note: I had two beers in a row last week and got a little buzzed. That hasn't happened since high school. Or maybe ever. Parenting has made me a lame-o.)

Thanks for reading this shit, dudes, and thanks especially to those who comment. It's nice to know y'all are there.

What are you up to this weekend?

Recipe for exhaustion

I have had a pretty draining week.On top of all this, on Friday we went to a bonfire at our friends' house, and yesterday we went to an art show (Andy had a piece in it) and hung out with friends we haven't seen enough of lately so we were out of our house for about ten hours in a row. While these were all awesome things to do and I'm glad we did them, it wasn't exactly the peaceful relaxing do-nothing weekend I was hoping for.

And right now I'm waiting for the baby to wake up from her nap so I can take her to the Urgent Care clinic, because we think she might be reinfected. Again.

I am really bummed about this, not just because it's disgusting and takes several hours of my life to treat, but because this will probably mean she can't visit with the grandma. I know the grandma is really, really trying, so this will be a big blow to her determination. But the fact is, neither Andy nor I are showing any symptoms, and I can assure you that I'm even more careful with treating the baby and her stuff than with our own. The only things the baby does that we don't are daycare, where they are super-careful and no one else has been infected at all, and visits with the grandma and brother.

Also, every visit means the baby is exposed to new germs, so she spends weekends all boogery and stuffy and it sucks. I know the visits are important, but last night she was so congested she kept spitting out her pacifier to breathe, and then fussing until we put it back in. This happened at least a dozen times between 1:30 a.m. and 7:30, when we moved her to our bed and could sort of stick the pacifier back in without actually waking up. This was a much better arrangement and we all snoozed until 10, but it didn't really make up for the hours of broken sleep. (And part of my brain is chiding me that this is our fault, because we were bragging yesterday to friends with a baby the same age that our baby sleeps through the night and has since she was six weeks old. So the universe is paying us back or something.)

Naturally, on top of all this stuff, I'm PMSing and so tired that I kind of want to cry. Coffee ice cream with chocolate sauce is helping a little.

Operation Eradication

Welp, the baby got reinfected. And so did Andy and I.

I'm an optimist, so my reactions right now are as follows:

- The timing on this could be way worse. We had family visiting two weeks ago and people in town this weekend for Easter, and thankfully we don't have to worry about her contaminating anyone.

- Now that it's official, the worker can set all sorts of great new rules to make sure this doesn't happen again. The only complicating thing here is that the grandma will get herself and the brother treated, which is great, but will also let the mom come over before she gets treated, so that will probably mean no more visits with the grandma. That's rough, since the county is still working towards placing the baby there and we'd like the baby to at least recognize the lady, but I'm not willing to deal with a fussy itchy miserable baby every time there's a visit because the grandma refuses to abide by a COURT ORDER prohibiting the baby's mom from being at the grandma's house.

- It happened after only one visit. I knew the parents hadn't done the treatment properly, and I knew we'd get reinfected eventually. At least this way it's done quickly and I don't have to freak out every time there's a visit for months before we can actually start moving along with requiring these things.

So I took the day off yesterday for what I called Operation Eradication: the baby and Andy and I were all treated, and we did all the necessary treatment in the house. Our next court date is in two weeks, and I don't think visits will resume before then. (Of course I could be wrong on that, but it seems unlikely that family will do everything they need to by then.)

The worker did tell me today that this is one of her more complicated cases. There are a lot of people involved, all of whom are working different case plans (or not working those case plans, as the case may be), and there are a lot of factors at play that make it really hard to predict how things will go. I'm glad that it wasn't just me thinking that there was a whole lot happening with this case!

Visit update

So the baby did in fact have her visit yesterday. The mom had a document saying she was cleared of the skin stuff, and apparently the dad showed up (40 minutes late into an hour-long visit) with a similar document, so the worker couldn't really prevent it.

The worker and I talked for about twenty minutes this morning about the situation. The county's hands are tied, because the original paperwork I got from the doctor only specified that the parents needed to be treated to resume visits, they can't legally require all of that other fun stuff before visits resume. (The worker, wisely, did not suggest that I should have asked the doctor for different requirements.) According to the parents, they have both been treated and that was all the doctor said they had to do for visits to resume. If the county changes the requirements after the parents have documents indicating they've met said requirements, that looks bad in court - and it's in the county's best interest (and the baby's) to not look bad in court.

The worker was very sympathetic and understanding, and told me repeatedly that she'd be making the same phone calls I was if she were in my shoes. (I used some of Thorn's excellent advice and made sure it was clear that the baby was my main concern, and how much calmer she is now that she's healthy and all.) She also pointed out that, as much as we don't want a reinfection, if that were to happen, the county could then impose more stringent requirements (and require proof) before visits resume again.

So now we're basically waiting for her to get reinfected. Ugh. Not a good plan, but really the only one we've got. We do know that the symptoms will show up much more quickly once you've had the issue already (like in a few days instead of several weeks), so we'll be keeping a very close eye and bringing her to the doctor at the first indication that there's a reinfection.

New poll: Is it a better idea for us to be fanatical about avoiding reinfection, or should we chill out a little and let it happen again so the new requirements can go into effect?

Oooh, I'm mad

So the new worker called me today to tell me that the baby was going to have a visit with her mom.

Apparently the baby's mom got a note from a doctor saying she doesn't have the horrifying skin condition, and that's good enough for the worker!

Problems:
1. The note is from the same facility that misdiagnosed the child THREE TIMES, even though I insisted they test for this issue at her first visit there. (They did, and said she didn't have it.)
2. The mom told the old worker three weeks ago that she had, in fact, been diagnosed with it. Even if she had gotten the treatment, it's incredibly unlikely (like, just about impossible) that she'd be symptom-free by now.
3. We got the old worker to agree that BOTH parents would be treated before EITHER parent would resume visits, and that the parents needed to be treated in the same span of time (ideally twenty-four hours) in order for it to be considered effective.
4. We only have the mom's word that the dad has been treated, because neither worker has been able to get in touch with him in weeks.
5. The dad's house has not been treated. The worker assured me that she told them repeatedly how important it is for the house to be treated. Pardon me for not being reassured.
6. If the baby gets reinfected, that means time out of daycare for her, which means time out of work for me. Cool. For those of you who think that should matter less since the county pays us to be foster parents, let me tell you that the $0.59 an hour I make as a foster parent is a small fucking comfort when it comes to time off from work.
7. The worker has not called me back to tell me if the visit even actually took place - all I know right now is that the medical transport company picked her up from daycare and dropped her back off, but there is a slim chance that the worker forgot to cancel the transport (it's her first week with this case) so the baby just hung out with the visit supervisor. Naturally, I can't get anyone on the phone to confirm this, so:
8. I will now be bathing the baby, and washing her carseat cover and diaper bag along with its contents.

I know we have no rights as foster parents, and I know it's in our best interest not to piss off the worker on her second day in our case, but hey, guess what? I'M NOT GOING TO BE OKAY WITH THIS. I left her a message asking her to let me know if she's going to let the dad have his scheduled visit tomorrow, that I officially request that it not take place until we know the home (and his five-year-old and his mom, who live there) have been treated, that I know I'm making her job harder and I apologize for that but I'm not comfortable with the baby being reexposed to an infectious disease, that I can get notes from the doctor indicating that the parents need to be treated in the same time span, and to call me in the morning.

Ugh. Okay, vote time: Should I call the worker's supervisor to make sure this is being taken seriously, or do you think that will just make things more complicated?

And then it got more fun!

We had yet another doctor's appointment on Thursday, at which they finally diagnosed the crazy rash that the baby's had since she came to us. In the interest of not disclosing confidential medical information, I'm only going to say that it's a totally horrifying but also totally treatable contagious condition that reminds people of lice except that it involves the skin instead of the hair. Oh, and Andy and I have it too now. Neat.

It took four different dermatologist appointments for them to diagnose this shit. The condition causes extreme itching, but the baby is too young to scratch, so she must have been miserable. We've noticed that when she's falling asleep she spends a few seconds wriggling intensely (like the first time she did it I thought maybe she was having a seizure), which we can now attribute to the itching, which is known to be worse when you're falling asleep.

So Andy and the baby and I were all treated on Thursday and will repeat the treatment in a week. I had to call the daycare so they could notify the parents of the other infants, and so that the worker could get herself and her daughter checked. I had to call the friends we were out of town with because they held the baby for a bit. Every single itch in the last two days has freaked me the hell out. We had an outbreak of this at the shelter I worked at probably once a year, and I managed not to get it for eight years. Then our first foster placement shows up and brings it right to my home.

The baby's birth parents were invited to the doctor's appointment and were reminded several times about it by the worker, but they didn't show up. So after we left the office, I called the worker to explain the situation and to tell her that both parents needed to be treated, and it would be best if the grandma and the baby's brother were treated as well, to minimize the chances of reinfecting the baby and then us. She said she'd let them know. Then she called back twenty minutes later and asked if I had it in writing from the doctor that they needed to be treated before they could have their visits. No, of course I didn't, why would I need that? Well, the worker explained, the parents are saying they don't have it and they don't want to get treated. Oh, and the mom also told the dad that we (the foster parents) are blaming him, which is insanity because he had only seen the baby maybe twice when she came into care. (To be totally clear, we are blaming the mom and maybe the grandma.) If they had shown up to the appointment, the doctor would have explained that anyone with regular contact with the baby needs to be treated and would have written them prescriptions right then and there, like he did for me and Andy.

So I had to call the doctor's office and ask them to put it in writing that the parents need to be treated before they can have visits, and I also asked him to add that they need some sort of proof that they've seen a doctor, like a prescription or something. But even if they get that, there's no telling whether they'll use it, or use it right. Ugh. The doctor was pretty understanding and said he'd fax it right over to the worker (and he was the first of four dermatologists - two specifically pediatric-focused -  and about nine medical students to actually figure out what was up) so he's okay in my book.

The mom told the worker that she can't afford the treatment. When the worker pointed out that the mom's on Medicaid, she said yeah, she is, but she as a one-dollar copay. She can't scrape together a dollar to treat a skin condition to avoid recontaminating her infant, but she has a new cell phone.

I am very relieved to have a concrete diagnosis, even if it's a disgusting one, and to be able to treat the poor baby so she can finally be comfortable. And I know I'm not supposed to think this, let alone share it, but part of me hopes the dad (who is the current person they're considering for reunification) decides not to get treated, so we can keep this precious, perfect baby, who is learning how to laugh and who we love so dearly.

Any of you have experience with gross contagious skin conditions? Any of you foster parents catch something gross from your kids?