other mothers, a taxi driver, and a plan

I’ve spoken about Jack’s “other mothers” in the past. A small group of women who Jack adores and who we trust with our most prized and fragile gift — JackO. Each of these women have become family and each has helped me every bit as much as they’ve helped Jack.

Last weekend when Monica arrived to hang with Jack for a few hours, she noticed right away that I was not myself. I shared that I was feeling a little off and she pondered if there was something in the air lately. She too had been feeling a little blue and told me that she’d been spending time listening to wellness speakers and reading inspirational books. 

She shared something she’d heard and found motivating.

When you get in a taxi, you need to tell the driver where you’re going. If you don’t, they might be willing to drive you around, but it’s unlikely to get you to where you want to go. Even if it does eventually get you there, it’s not a direct route and can be expensive. “Words are powerful, Jess. Find the words for where you want to go.”

Wow!

As soon as she shared that story, Monica started putting on Jack’s shoes and left me there thinking as she took Jack to Wendy’s to pick up some bacon-double-cheeseburgers. She had no idea that she had given me the last kick I needed to make a big change.

I sat down on the living-room couch and asked myself to figure out the words for where I wanted to be in five years. The words were right in front of me. I then called my mother and told her what I was thinking — I told her my words (I know I’m 50, but she will always be my goto person when I’m struggling). She said, “I think that it’s a dandy idea. Move forward Tates. Don’t let anything stand in your way.”  I spoke to Dan who told me he was proud of me and supported me 100%. By the time Monica and Jack returned to the house with their greasy fingers and full bellies, I was on the computer researching master’s programs. By next week, my applications to get a MA in Counseling will be complete and I’m hoping to start in January.

Truthfully, I’m not usually a person who believes in everything happening for a reason and that the world makes much sense. I’m more practical and believe that life is usually a mess and it’s our responsibility to make the most of it. Either way, Monica’s words hit me in an unexpected way and I am grateful. I’m ready for my next chapter now and I am relieved to finally have a plan. I’m aware that I haven’t actually been excepted into any program, but my words are out there so what could go wrong?😏

I’m fifty. I’m a wife and a mother and a friend. I’m a writer and a photographer and teacher. I’m also a special needs mother who’s passionate about working with other parents who are struggling to find their way. And, here’s what I’ve discovered folks — I’m also a taxi driver. Thank you Monica!!!!!

Love, Jess

I searched the internet trying to find the source of the taxi story. I couldn’t, but I did find this one.

“Life is like a taxi. The meter just keeps a-ticking whether you are getting somewhere or just standing still. — ” Lou Erickso

And of corse, I’ve always loved this one.

“I may be going to hell in a bucket, babe. But at least I’m enjoying the ride, at least I’ll enjoy the ride.” — The Grateful Dead

One more thing — Peter is included as one of Jack’s other mothers.

time to refocus (on what? not sure – give me time)

I know I’ve been a little unhinged lately. I know it when my friends start reaching out, “just checking in” and when people start asking if I’ve thought about getting a job or going back to school. I know it when at the end of the day, I still have my pajamas on and my iPhone tells me that I’ve spent HOURS on social media. I’m fighting with strangers and obsessively watching the news and finding myself checking my Twitter feed while sitting on the toilet. I don’t want to miss anything — as if my not being there is somehow going to lead to worse news.

Last night I had a ALD Connect Community Call on my calendar and logged on begrudgingly because I was going to miss time in front of the evening news. As the facilitator of these calls, I’m responsible for reminding callers that we are not to discuss the specifics of the phone calls. I won’t share details, but I will tell you that I got off the call in exhausted/relieved/happy tears. And, with a renewed sense of purpose. An hour and a half with members of the ALD community is what I needed to remind me of what’s really important.

My frustration with our current political situation/pandemic nightmare is that I’ve felt like I have no control. It’s coming close to how I used to feel about ALD. For years I would look at my son and his challenges and wonder why this had happened and why we couldn’t fix it. I struggled with making sense of all the WHYS.

Then I wrote Smiles and Duct Tape and Jack’s story started getting out to the ALD world. In sharing our messy journey, I realized that I wasn’t just telling our story, I was connecting to the community who understood our disease. People who knew what a Loes score was and what GVHD stands for. People who knew that we were unlucky not to have had an early diagnosis, but lucky that Jack never lost his vision and hearing.

It was something that I didn’t know I had longed for for years — connection. Being with our community helped me process what we were experiencing, learn practical things that have helped us and allowed me to help others Giving back —- helping others — is powerful. It got me from a place of feeling sorry for our family to feeling proud of our family and it’s strength.

Talking last night with several other ALD families, I realized for the first time in a while I was thinking about something other than when we could leave the house without worry or what will happen on November 3rd. It reminded me that the world doesn’t always make sense and we need to focus on what we can control. As much has I have – on some level – enjoyed getting feisty with non-mask wearing/virus deniers on social media, I know that I’m not going to change anyone’s mind.* I need to get back to doing something positive, something helpful — connecting — to our ALD community, the special needs community, to our MAPSO community, to our family.

I’m still wondering if it’s time to consider getting a job or going back to school. Writing, coaching, counseling, who knows? But, today, before even checking the overnight news, I was on my computer looking up ideas. Not sure if I will dive in, but it sure was a nice distraction.

Thanks to my friends — new and old — who were on that call last night and helped me refocus my energy. It’s noon and I have clothes on, have run some errands and haven’t yet gotten into any debates on social media.

Love, Jess

* I will still block anyone who is spreading misinformation. And, I encourage everyone to VOTE. For Biden/Harris💙😷✌️

second wave

I used to love the fall. It’s crisp air and magical light always arrived to some relief after a busy, hot summer. The beginning of the school year always felt like a new beginning and our calendars were filled with annual events — harvest parties and parents’ weekends. And, the fall culminates with a wonderful holiday — my birthday.

This year is different. As the temperatures lower and the leaves begin turning, I’m starting to panic.

I’m worried that we’re approaching the second round of hunkering down as the fall has arrived and the COVID numbers have started ramping up again. This time we know what it looks like to quarantine and, in this case, knowledge is not power — it sucks.

When all this started in mid-March, we thought it would be a couple of weeks. Almost like an extended snow day. We filled our freezers with food and set up the puzzle table in the living-room. Having the four of us home was like an unexpected staycation. Am I the only one that thought it was kinda fun? For a couple of weeks . . .

Then the reality crept in. A few weeks of missed school turned into no prom or graduation for Jack. Anna’s spring semester ended at home and then Hopkins announced virtual learning for the fall. Dan’s office started talking about limited returns to in-person work, but not until 2021 and every single house project I had on my list got finished.

Just as we thought that we would go nuts (with just our tiny pod), the weather warmed and our backyard filled with other people and life was okay again. Different, but okay. We got into a rhythm. Dan realized that he could sneak in some hiking while on calls. We planned at least one dinner a week with friends or family. Anna headed back to study in Baltimore for a change of scenery (and people). Jack got to spend some time with old friends and enjoy long walks and hours in the pool. We even ventured to friend’s yards and restaurant dinners (in parking lots), and snuck in a couple visits to Block Island. Our family realized that we could manage our strange new life of masks and Purell as long as we could see some people. It wasn’t a normal summer, but it was lovely.

Now days are getting shorter and cooler, and except for a few fire-pit nights planned, I see a very empty calendar. It’s hard to make safe plans if we don’t have the ability to be outside.

I hear people saying that things can’t shut down again. The economy will be ruined and people will go insane. I agree, but I’m just not sure my family has a choice.

Jack’s immune system is pretty strong 13 years post-transplant and we are usually able to manage his Addison’s Disease and Epilepsy with medications. Jack might be able to get through COVID without too much harm. But he might not. My parents might do just fine. Or not. And what if I got sick? Not in-the-hospital sick, just really sick. Who would care for Jack? Where would I care for myself?

We’re a family who is erring on the side of caution and I’m worried that it means that we will soon be limited to our home and a tiny pod. I don’t WANT to do it again. I’m just guessing it’s going to happen. So for the next few weeks we’re planning to do as many outdoor activities with friends/family as possible. We are also going to load up on some extra food for our freezer and grab a little extra toilet paper.

I know we are not alone in worrying about friends and family who might be more vulnerable. What are you doing to protect them?

Love, Jess

safe(ish) choices

September is here and it’s been fascinating to see how everyone is getting back into the swing of school/fall — in-person small classes, home schooling, virtual learning, hybrids. Our family is still struggling to find our “back to school” routine. We have a messy, make-shift assortment of activities for JackO that we seem to be constantly changing (although he is happy and busy(ish)). Anna is back in Baltimore, taking classes from her apartment and has already been quarantined twice after being exposed to people who tested positive for COVID. Dan is continuing to work from our home office and seems to enjoy working unshowered in tee-shirts, but I do hear him throughout the day yelling at Fios. I win the award for the least productive family member. I do start each week with a master plan of writing and work-outs, but instead find myself doing everything but. At least my closets are clean.

These are crazy times and I keep reminding myself that things will get back to normal at some point. Maybe NORMAL isn’t the right word. 

Thirteen years in, and our family still refers to our lives as before and after ALD. Two years following Jack’s transplant, we still had a suitcase in the trunk of the car just in case we found ourselves in the hospital. And, when everyone was struggling to find masks in March, all we had to do was go into Jack’s closet where we had our leftover pile from post-transplant isolation days. Having gone through that time in our lives, scarred us and left us always feeling like a shoe could drop at any moment. I resented this unease for years, but I guess it prepared us for this latest sh^tshow (I tried to find another word, but noting really worked as well).

Having learned from our ALD experience, I would imagine the entire world will live for quite awhile referring to life as before and after COVID. I’m guessing that it will be years before a cough is just a cough and the pile of masks at our front door disappears or we allow the Purell in the car to dry up. I know someday we will go back to living again, but when?

Maybe instead of focusing on getting back to normal we should focus on creating a new way of living. I know for some of the country, masks have become a political statement, but here in our area masks are mainstream. It means that I now venture out into the community without too much fear. I do find I am constantly looking around for maskless faces and listening for coughs, but mostly I am just going about my business. Being out — even just to run errands — feels liberating after months of the only non-family member we would see was the UPS deliver person.

Part of our back-to-school/fall plans is seeing more people.

We are trying to have friends over at least once a week and even went out to dinner last weekend — outside. I’m taking walks with friends again and Jack has his “other mothers” and his favorite OT (we love you Mr. Galo) coming to the house again. We are even heading to visit friends and to see my in-laws for a few days this weekend. Not that any of these choices are perfectly safe, but everyone we are seeing has been hunkered down and except for a small crew of people, everyone wears masks when not outside/distanced. We feel there is minimal risk, but do appreciate that some of our choices aren’t perfectly safe. Still, we are willing to take the limited risk. Stretching our comfort level is important for us right now so that we stay sane. We were starting to go a little nuts and within a few weeks, the cold will blow in and entertaining will become harder. The flu season might also complicate re-opening in general and we don’t want to look back in November and wish we had seen more people while we could.

So that is where we are right now. Trying to get in the rhythm of the new season and control what we can. Wear masks when out, wash hands constantly and see people in a safe(ish) way.

It’s Thursday and I still haven’t done much working out, but at least I can say that I did spend an hour writing. Now I can go back to procrastinating my paperwork and organizing another closet. Maybe I’ll also reach out to some friends and see if we can make some dinner plans out on the patio next week.

I just hope that, before too long, we can worry less and hug more. Until then — Happy FALLLLLLL!

Fingers Crossed, 

Jess

New Tricks

I often chalk stuff up as a happy accident or a funny coincidence when Jack has a new trick. It’s not that I’m not proud of our boy or that I don’t pray with every ounce of my soul that he will make improvements and develop new skills. I’m just being careful. It’s my way of protecting myself from disappointment. For years, I would see small successes and think it was the beginning of a huge transformation. I was often left disappointed when a new trick vanished as quickly as it had arrived. So I’ve learned to focus on and celebrate what Jack is doing well and consistently.

Over the years there have been some things that have proved to be more than a trick. Jack relearned how to walk with purpose, eat solid food, hug. A few years ago, after being told repeatedly from the folks at his high school that Jack could read, I watched as Jack pointed correctly to a word on a sheet of paper. I paused and then pushed down the excitement, reminding myself that he had a one-in-four chance of choosing the right word — not crazy odds to have guessed the correct answer. Then he did something similar the next day. I tentatively held up word after word to test the skill. I was delighted — and shocked — to see that his teachers were right.

Lately we’ve witnessed another new skill that at first had us laughing.

Last week I got a flurry of text messages from friends asking me what was going on? “What are you saying?” “You okay?” “What’s THAT photo?”

When I scrolled through our correspondences, I saw odd comments and strange photos. I couldn’t figure out what was going on — had my phone been hacked? And, then I saw something that solved the mystery. A large nose.

It was Jack.

I went into the bathroom where Jack was sitting on the toilet with his iPad on his lap. Jack isn’t consistent with his toileting and we find that if we sit him for a bit every few hours we can often save a diaper (adult diapers are about $1/per — and we are cheap). We sit him with his iPad so that he can stay entertained AND stay seated (he has startled more than one guest over the years by walking out of the bathroom with his pants around his ankles).

After the random texts, I realized that Jack’s iPad is linked to my phone and that he was writing to people. How on earth? He must have just been lucky as he hit some buttons.

Then it happened again. And again. Apparently Jack likes texting and sharing photos of his nose and thighs (thank goodness it hasn’t been of anything else).

Then this morning I heard Anna’s voice coming from the bathroom. Having just delivered her to Baltimore, I wondered how it was possible until I walked into the bathroom to find Jack smiling at his sister’s face on FaceTime. Apparently he doesn’t just like to write notes.

So folks, I need to apologize in advance for any odd correspondence you might receive from me. It wasn’t a butt dial and I haven’t been day drinking. It’s just Jack saying hello.

AND, if you get any photos . . . I’m really, really, really sorry. PLEASE do not alert the authorities.

Love, Jess

ZOOM LIFE and “this is a REALLY happy mom” smile

I’m glad I waited before turning on our camera. I needed a few minutes to get my bearings. My priority was to keep Jack calm and happy. It was hard enough to hide my reaction from him —  I couldn’t risk anybody else witnessing any tears of awkward stares.

It’s one luxury of ZOOM LIFE — People don’t need to see you, until you’re ready.

Once I took a deep breath, I put on my best “this is a REALLY happy mom” smile and hit “start video”.

Last week Jack started logging onto some virtual activities with the adult program he will (some day) attend in person. The lovely staff sent us a list of options ranging from art classes to Zumba to music to virtual outings. We were excited to start participating and eager to have a bit of a schedule; especially with Anna heading to Baltimore before too long.

I knew that once we logged in we would “meet” many of Jack’s new peers, and we also knew his peers ages range from 21 — 70+ and that they all (like Jack) have rather complicated lives. 

Let’s go back 13 years to when we walked into The PG Chambers School for the first time. I managed to keep that “this is a REALLY happy mom” smile, but tears filled my eyes as I was introduced to Jack’s new peers. Our family hadn’t been part of the special needs world until Jack was eight-years-old and thrown in with no time to prepare. We hadn’t known many children with such complicated disabilities before the day we walked into the school. I know it sounds awful, but it made me sad and overwhelmed that Jack was suddenly part of this world.

The same thing happened when Jack started at Horizon High School (now Pillar High School).Teenagers with disabilities were not a population I knew and everything looked bigger and more complicated. My “this is a REALLY happy mom” smile needed to be firmly planted before I walked into the school that first day. Maybe two.

Of corse within weeks, first at The PG Chambers School and then at Horizon High School, the student’s disabilities faded and their personalities shone. Quickly, I found I no longer focused on the wheelchairs and tubes and braces. Instead, I would focus on the smiles and the wonderful energy that always filled the space.

I pride myself on being open-minded and non-judgmental. I don’t define people by their successes or their failures. I don’t judge people by their talents or their challenges. But, once in a while, I need to pause to let my emotions catch up to my brain.

Last week, as we logged on to the virtual program, I needed a second to look around at the boxes of new friends and take a deep breath, before hitting “start video”. Within a few minutes we were dancing Zumba as a family, but we weren’t dancing with our usual Torrey gusto. While ZOOM LIFE can make things a little easier, it is a bit harder to connect and feel part of something new when everyone is just a box on a screen.

If the staff at the program asked how they thought Jack and his family were adapting to their program, I’m guessing they would say that we are a lively family and seem happy. Our family IS both lively and happy, but we are human and sometimes it takes us a moment. Until then, we will dance until we can really boogie — I imagine that the staff will see the difference when it happens. AND, I am guessing it will happen soon.

I hope everyone is enjoying the tail-end of the summer and getting to do a little boogieing!!

Love, Jess

Jack’s Graduation

First there was a pandemic that stole Jack’s last three months of high school. Then we were told that instead of a traditional graduation, there would be an “At Home” ceremony. Then it rained on the scheduled date. I was starting to think that nature was determined to completely ruin the end of senior year for our boy.

BUT the “At Home” graduation turned out to be an unbelievable day. 

Check out Jack getting his diploma!

Watching Jack as he excepted his diploma and Pillar High School’s Presidential Award was beautiful and then seeing his eyes widen every time he saw another friend arrived, warmed our hearts. After the ceremony, he wandered around the driveway reuniting with so many people he adores – IN PERSON. 

We did break some rules. 

Everyone wore masks and there was plenty of Purell, but there were more than 25 people on our driveway. And, there were hugs – LOTS of hugs. We couldn’t help it. It’s been three months since Jack has gotten to see these folks in the flesh and pulling him off of them seemed like torture, so we gave in (a little). 

After the celebration, we blew kisses to everyone as they drove away, and we put Jack directly into the pool — figuring the chlorine would kill off any germs. He sat on his favorite float as Anna swam him around. He had his hands claps behind his head and was all smiles, like he was reliving his fun day. Later in the afternoon we had another surprise when Peter arrived, bottle of champagne in hand, to toast to our boy’s latest accomplishment. What a perfect way to wrap up the day!

Jack’s life is complicated and there are many things he can’t do, but he has an exceptional ability to connect to people. Yesterday was proof that you don’t need to speak or write or be able to feed/bathe/toilet yourself to have a wonderful life full of people who smile every time you walk into a room (or onto the asphalt).

Thank you to everyone who made the day special and to Pillar High School for 7 unbelievable years of learning, growing and licking. I know that we are now not officially part of the Pillar Care Continuum, but I know in my heart, that our connection is not over just yet.

Love, Jess

ALD Connect Peer Mentor Program

No photo description available.

Thirteen years ago we were in the hospital living through transplant. We’d only heard the word Adrenoleukodystrophy for the first time four weeks earlier. We didn’t know anyone who had ALD or who had even heard of the disease. Our doctors didn’t even have much information to share.

We were terrified and we were completely isolated.

It took months to connect with any other ALD families — it was a time before social media and Googling ALD simply lead us to horrifying stories and even more horrifying statistics. Once we found a couple of other ALD families, we did find some comfort, but it was often short-lived as their journey’s took turns down dark paths. Fear and guilt weighed heavy in continuing those relationships.

It took years before our family really found our ALD community. Smiles and Duct Tape – the blog, then the book – found it’s way into the hands of a member of the board of ALD Connect and she reached out to encouraged me to go to their next meeting (thanks Kathleen). Attending a panel of ALD patients and caregivers and then my first ALD Connect Annual Meeting was empowering. It was years after Jack’s diagnosis and transplant and it was when I first realized that our family had reached another chapter in our ALD journey. Being surrounded by people who knew our disease – who lived our disease – was inspiring. And, we were no longer weighed down by fear and guilt and were finally strong enough to be able to provide help. Sharing our story with other families and doctors and organizations studying our disease — it’s (I hope) helped other people, but it’s absolutely helped our family find strength and take some power back.

ALD Connect asked me to attend a meeting last year to find out more about peer to peer support programs and how they can help rare diseases like ours. I was honored to be asked to represent ALD Connect and found the conference fascinating and reminded me of how our family felt thirteen years ago. Scared and alone.

The first speaker at the conference talked about the added stress of feeling isolated that families go through when facing a rare disease. They’re not just battling the disease, they are often battling the disease without any support from people who understand the disease the way ONLY PEOPLE WHO HAVE LIVED IT can understand.

ALD is a horrible disease, but the people effected are an incredible group. It took me a while, but most ALD families don’t take years to find the strength to help others. AND, thanks to social media, our community has been able to more easily find each other. Informally, many in our community have been acting as mentors, but ALD Connect is now rolling out a more formal program.

The ALD Connect Peer Mentor Program is now welcoming our ALD community to reach out if they would like to be paired with someone within our community who has experienced a similar path with the disease. A group of incredible mentors have been selected, representing each phenotype of our disease, and they are looking forward to being a resource for support, encouragement and a shoulder when needed. Please contact me or admin@aldconnect.org if you are interested.

Day 35

What does Jack think about quarantine?

I usually feel confident that Jack understands everything, but sometimes is hard to know for sure. This is one of those times.

I’ve been getting Jack up around 9:00 every morning and when I walk into his room, he pops right up and smiles. He doesn’t have the bags under his eyes that are becoming my new signature look. When I check the camera app to see how many times he woke up in the night, there’s no significant change since the old days (before COVID-19). Dan and I have been experimenting with night-time teas and melatonin and pm medications and one more glass of wine to help with sleep (maybe it’s just me who is trying the “one more glass of wine” method — it doesn’t really work, but I’m gonna keep trying). Jack doesn’t seem to need any help transitioning from the day to a restful nights sleep. 

Jack definitely knows that his family is all home, but that it’s not a normal weekend or vacation. After his morning shower, he marches into the office – where he knows his Dad will be. And after breakfast, he starts walking towards the stairs, wanting to go wake his sister.

He no longer watches out the dinning-room window looking for his school bus to pull into the driveway. Instead he knows it’s time to sit at the kitchen island or out on the patio in front of the computer. When he sees his classmates or friends on Zoom, he smiles and stays on his stool so that he can hear what’s going on.

My parents and Maria (Jack’s wonderful caregiver) are the only other people who have entered the house is 36 days. Jack is always happy to see them, but seems to understand the there are no more hugs or licks and signs I love you from several feet away. 

He definitely knows that life has changed for now, but doesn’t seem too worried. Jack has always lived in the moment. Long before ALD, he was never a kid who stressed too much about what’s coming — or what might be coming. He trusts us and trusts things will be okay.

That trust/faith was strengthened 14 years ago when we promised him that we would keep him safe. With the help of wonderful doctors, nurses, tons of prayer/positive energy and luck, we were able to keep him safe then and we are trying our hardest to keep him safe now. It’s worrying about his safety, and the safety of our entire circle of friends and family, that has me up at night and yelling at the television during the day.

I’m so worried that no matter how careful we are, bad news might find it’s way into our lives. This is a terrible virus and there is still so much unknown and no clear path to reaching the end of it’s horror.

I’m trying to hold it together, but Jack has witnessed me melting down several times over the last five weeks. Just last night he found me in bed, yelling at the television screen and he walked over and climbed onto the bed next to me. I haven’t seen him do something like that so seamlessly in a very long time (any task with more than one step can be a challenge for our boy). It was just what I needed. Jack might be silent, but he is able to share his heart, strength and faith clearly.

So, what does Jack think about quarantine? This is all I know for sure — he’s missing school, but loving having his family around all the time. He’s missing his buddies, but enjoying long walks and the spring weather. And, he’s living in today and trusting that things will be okay.

Stay strong, wash your hands and try to live in today.

Love, Jess

 

Day 2

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I haven’t been this out-of-sorts in years — since 2007/2008, when we lived with a suitcase always loaded in our car in case of an unexpected trip to the hospital. The difference is that this time it’s not just our family that’s living with the anxiety of the unknown. It’s our entire country/planet.

Like an eerie calm before the storm, and we don’t know what the storm is going to bring. There are limited cases of COVID-19 in our area, but we assume that it’s just a matter of time. Will things get as bad as China or Italy? Who knows, but this has already effected school and work and parties and conferences and trips and Dan’s beloved March Madness.

Our family is social distancing because we’re scared that the virus can be lurking without symptoms for days and COVID-19 seems to be very contagious. There’s so much we don’t yet know and I don’t want to look back and wish we had done more to protect ourselves — to protect our community.

I’m scared about Jack’s health and about the health of all of our friends and family. I’m scared about hospital beds filling and a lack of respirators. I’m scared about small businesses suffering and the entire economy crumbling. I am also a little scared that Anna and I are going to kill each other.*

It’s not that our family is just sitting in front of the news all day. We’re all trying to distract ourselves. Anna is heading out to play some tennis with friends, I’m going for a long walk with JackO and Dan has a pile of yard work (we figure outside is safe). My folks even came today for lunch and we had a nice time, but there were no hugs. I can’t wait to go back to normal — I could really use a Mymom/Nonno hug right now. 

Love, Jess

* Kids are suffering terribly. Their lives have halted indefinitely. They’re missing school and work and parties and games. My heart goes out to my sweet girl and to all of her peers. IT’S HORRIBLE. Now, get home, wash your hands and be nice to your parents.