When I asked to join this site, and Leah let me, I said I would probably post once a week.  At the height of Hoss’ school issues, I could have posted something about his issues at least once a day, but now things have calmed down some.  Strangely enough, since deciding that I would chronicle our tentative journey through IEPs and his new outpatient therapy, Hoss has been very maintstream.  He hasn’t had a full fledged meltdown, he’s starting to pick up on his own triggers and articulate that he’s not feeling good, and he removes himself from situations (mostly with the permission of the appropriate grown-up, but even when he goes off on his own, it’s been in a reasonable way).

So I should be happy.  But I’m more nervous than ever.  I feel like I can’t accept that maybe, just maybe, we have gotten the medication and the therapy level and the coping mechanisms in the right place.  I feel like as soon as I relax and as soon as I accept what we have in place as the right thing for this particular moment, it’s going to blow up in my face.

It’s been one year since Hoss switched schools (translation: it’s been one year since the private school called me into a conference that took place the night before I left town for a week long conference and said “We’ll keep him for another week, but he’ll have to be in public school after that; we can’t deal with him anymore.”)  At the time, I was cautiously optimistic about the new situation.  As the year progressed, I became more comfortable with it, since the staff has been supportive and dedicated.  It’s been six months since Hoss was hospitalized.  The day we admitted him, the school counselor sat with me at the emergency room for five or six hours, handing me tissues when I fell apart and filling in details of the explanations to the doctors when I fell short.  I didn’t ask her to come with me, I didn’t feel I had the right, and yet she did it with full support of the principal and rest of the staff.  I couldn’t ask for anything more.

I had my conference this past week.  The specter of what was happening while I was at last year’s conference, and the specter of the downward spiral of last March, had me on edge.   Hoss forgot to take his medication one day, yet the assistant principal responded to the email relating this saying he’d had a good day.  Hubby met with the doctor about a tweak to the dosage for the ADHD (the risperidone level seems fine) on Tuesday, and it came off without a hitch.  The administration at the school say they are very happy with Hoss’ progress.  He has been getting along in group and interacting nicely at the intensive out-patient program and is down to two days per week.

So why can’t I relax and accept that he’s doing just fine?