Open letter

Dear Molina Formulary and Policy Boards,

Congratulations! You have won the privilege of caring for my son for 72 hours! See you in three hours. We are SO looking forward to this!

Regards,
Quinn's Mother

Fine print and disclaimers:
1.) Bring several changes of clothes for yourselves. Consider also supplying your own washer and dryer, as ours will be busy with Quinn's increased demands thanks to your policies.
2.) Check your files for all the OTC and Rx options that will not work, thus saving yourself the middle-of-the-night, vomit-scented disappointment of trying yet another med that HAS to work, according to your policies.
3.). Speaking of vomit, you should know ahead of time that baby wipes are ineffective, as are washcloths, paper, bath, and beach towels, and perfume. Consider bringing your own shower.

_________________________________

And there's more.  I guess at least the taxpayers can rest assured that Molina is working to save them money!  By repeating tests and assessments that will NEVER, EVER CHANGE, and absolutely cost more than the $90 per month they'd prefer monthly documentation for.  Heck, the monthly documentation requests alone blow that $90,  and never mind the cost to the doctor's offices who keep writing letters and keep trying to send faxes that are, mysteriously, received only about twenty percent of the time.  It's something like having to answer the Social Security department's questions about "change in diagnosis."  Really?  (This is where I begin to feel I've developed an edge to my voice...)  Because you seriously think, SS people, that there will have been a change in his missing corpus callosum?  He will suddenly not have microcephaly?  Polymicrogyria is now a limited-time condition?  Gosh, that would be awesome.

I can't remember having been this angry.  Breathing deeply...

Let's talk about other things, shall we?  S gave a great violin book recital in the backyard on Sunday afternoon.  Barefoot, in a sparkly dress, cuing to her teacher who accompanied, with musicality, intonation, and stage presence taking the day.  She's grown her skill so much over the last few months.  It was spectacular.  And the black bottom cupcakes from Grandma were delicious.

Speaking of the backyard.  (You knew we were going there.)  The weather has been perfect for planting tomatoes, and there are currently about 18 in the actual dirt, above the second terrace, some of which have blossoms already (Black Krim, Lemon Boy, and something that may have stripes...?).  The nasturtiums have popped out all over the backyard and that second terrace.  I've been whispering to them a little, for inspiration, because I want them to overwhelm and destroy the weeds.  Okay, so they won't actually destroy the weeds, but they do grow shockingly fast, are completely edible, and make gorgeous flowers.  Which we will eat.  Nom.  There are also eight lemon cucumber plants, just behind the bricks of the first terrace, between the lavender and cress and the Jethro Tull (heh).  There are roughly 40,000 more tomatoes to plant.  And green beans.  Round zucchini.  I killed the watermelon and cantaloupe babies off, sadly.  They're short, cool season varieties, so maybe we'll try again in that hot spot on the southwest facing side of the house.  I'm tempted to uncover the rest of the dirt that's under plastic (weed abatement) and plant it full of potatoes, carrots, beets, radishes, kohlrabi, and eggplant.  We were hoping to find a nice grape this year at the cheap plant guy's greenhouse, but we missed it by waiting.  We don't have an arbor, though, so maybe that would have been futile for the poor grape.

Two girls had sick days today, with rebellious tummies.  Q's got a stuffy head, besides the disruptions in meds and feeding supplies, so tonight could be extra interesting.  But since he's sleeping now, I'm off. 

Here's a lovely thing to watch while you're having your weekend.  And a lovely thing to listen to.  

Pax.