Waiting For Rachel

Stewie impatiently waits for Rachel to return

Last year, when Rachel was still up to taking college classes, I started taking random pictures while waiting for her to return from class. I shared some on my Instagram, and some on our dog blog (link to the right --->). The hashtag was #waitingforrachel.

I spend a lot of time waiting for Rachel. She can't drive due to the risk of seizure, or even panic attacks, and she has no desire to do so. She's working on being more independent, and spending time doing fun things without me, but I still have to be nearby, at least close enough to respond within just a few minutes, in case of emergency. Generally, this means sitting in my car, reading my Nook, or taking a walk. Sometimes I have Stewie with me, which is nice for the walks, but many times it's just me, sitting there and trying to focus on reading, while trying not to panic every time I hear a siren.

Lately there have been more times when I'll drop her off somewhere, and then run off to do a small errand nearby, but I'm never gone more than 15 minutes, and the whole time I'm away, I'm dreading and anticipating the ringing of my phone. So far, so good. We haven't had any major incidents while I've been parked outside, or even off-site. *fingers crossed*

Rachel's most recent interest is in volunteering with the school district's SMART (start making a reader today) program. She'll be reading with kindergarteners twice a week. She's done two sessions now, and really seems to love it. Each session is 90 minutes, and Rach has 3 kids that she reads with individually in that time. The first day I was a mess. The school at which she volunteers is close to downtown and the hospital. I should have taken that into account when choosing schools, but she'd worked at this school before, so it seemed the best option at the time. Every time I heard a siren, I chanted to myself "please, don't come closer." 

After the first day, Rachel offered to text me between each child's session, so that I would be more at ease. I was incredibly grateful for her empathy, and that she offered without me asking. PTSD is a horrible thing, and mine seems pretty firmly centered on sirens, tonic-clonic seizures, and hospital smells. Weird, right? ;)

I don't think I'm unique in my need to be close by when my neuro-atypical young adult is off on her own. She has Stewart, a body alarm that he can pull, a watch that can detect and report a tonic-clonic seizure, and an ID tag that has a QR code which will take responders to a web page with all her pertinent info. The poor kid is bogged down with all the safety gear I can get her to wear, and I still wait nearby. It's quite likely I'd benefit from some good therapy, but those funds, and the time for the appointments, are currently allotted to Rachel's need for psych care. 

I envy those parents who, even though they worry, can let their young adults walk out the door, and be gone for hours, without the outright fear of a random storm in their child's brain causing them harm. Who don't have the concern that in the midst of a seizure their child may be confronted by police, and harmed because they can't respond to commands. Who have the normal expectations of sending their adult child out into the world to get jobs, make friends, and go on to live an average life. We have no idea what will happen for Rachel next, or whether she'll ever be able to live on her own.