Boy, what a difference! I had my first care conference at exactly 3 weeks of residency. We (my husband and I) met with the social worker, physical therapist, chaplain, and nurse manager to discuss my care. They covered every aspect of my care: building a comprehensive and detailed care plan, how I was socializing, the spiritual portion of my life, recreation opportunities, how I'm doing physically, and what do I need going forward. Not once did they mention money. Not once did they verbally bash on me.
I remember catching fireflies, putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field. That field was my...
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