Circle Jerk
So there I am, the only male in the room. My daughter was 3 years old … we attended the Early Intervention program and two afternoons a week I took her to this state run place. Not too bad, the kids play, there are therapists around, the moms and me hang out.
Then, of course there is the social worker. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t get them. Not a bit. This one was about 21 years old, believed she was god’s gift to … well … social working I guess. I was in my late 30’s, owned a good size company, had been a college professor, and knew everything about my daughter, and was dealing with it just fine.
I found myself sitting in a circle on a chair sized for a five year old. Me, six or seven moms and this social worker. She looks at me and asks …
So, how does it feel being the parent of a disabled child?
And the goal of this question was … ? Have me pour my heart out? Tell her, and the other parents of f–ked up kids how it feels? This would help me how? Why on earth is it her place to ask, especially in a public forum? To what end?
I thoroughly enjoy it.
Honestly, that is what I said. I never sat in that circle again.
Bill almost got it right … “The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.” – (Shakespeare, Henry VI, Act IV, Scene II).
Sat in a book club with other women from church. Sign language interpreter interpreting away…end of meeting one woman asked me, “How is the interpreting working out for you?” Me: “Just fine, how is it working out for you?” “Touche, she said…
Probably a social worker … 😉
Funny thing…you are right…she was a social worker, retired now. Gawd, I hope I don’t do that too much…as I am a social worker!!!! Watch out!
Found you through your comment on my blog… thank you! I’ve gone back and read a good number of your posts.
Not only are you a great writer — you put your emotions out there, thank you — but you’re an incredibly strong, brave man. Thanks for leading me here.
I just snorted my coffee out all over my computer. I just LOVE young social workers —
I see now the reason I chose to study maths…
My mother got sick when I was a teenager and after she died, one of her friends said she’d be happy not to be a burden anymore. She was never a burden to me, I loved her. How do people not get that? Love isn’t a bank transfer.
When my daughter got sick there was this Social worker who was always trying to corner me and my wife to get an “understanding” of how we were holding up. We ducked and dodged her successfully for months. Then one day I was visiting with my Daughter in ICU and she was telling me of her day and her plans for when she finally got out of here and I needed to make a “Bio-Break” as my Daughter called them. She knew Daddy needed to cry. But that Social worker was there waiting. She took me into this little room not much bigger than a closet. And asked “How was I feeling?” I told her I was mad as Hell and wanted to hurt someone. To make them bleed from there mouth and ears. The look on her face when she realized she was in this small ass room alone with an angry, 300 pound Black man was PRICELESS ! I laughed so hard I did almost make Bio-spill right there. I got back to my Daughter and shared this with her and we laughed together so hard the nurse came in to see what was up. We shared with her and soon it was around the hospital. We never saw this woman again. Not through all the procedures, meds, long sleepless nights, day after day of seeing the same walls in ICU. Until the day Angela lost her battle. I was standing at the end of the bed watching my Daughter trying to hold on to whatever sanity I had when there was a small hand in mine. Looked over and there she was the Social Worker. No words, just tears and a hug. I guess she knew me better than I thought.
Stay Strong Single Dad !