Still on the merry-go-round...

Day two of the medicals merry-go-round today as we attempted to get Skip’s completed. It proved more difficult than ours, and we found ourselves, literally going from one “facility” to another, then back to the first, and back to another, etc. etc. etc. We began at 8:00 a.m, and other than a two-hour visit, we Harry, we were at it until 4:30 p.m. We got 4 of the 7 done. Skip has had it by now however, and is stressing when we tell him we’re going to yet another. We are not talking about what we American would consider clinics or Doctor’s Offices, and that is part of what wears him down. At most we must wear blue plastic shoe covers on our feet – something I failed to understand given the fact these buildings are DISGUSTING! In many, we MUST check our coats before we’re even allowed to enter. Can’t figure that one out either. One doctor gave him a “psychiatric” exam today. It consisted of showing him 3 cards with scenes, and asking him to put them in the correct order, then showing him a card with a fox, a squirrel, and rabbit, and a chicken, then asking him which didn’t belong. He said chicken, and she wanted to know why. He said because it was a farm animal, and the others were not. She said his choice was correct, but the reason wasn’t since he should have said because it was a bird! Whatever…. Two more dumb, “pick out which one doesn’t belongs” , one math question (If you had 5 cookies, and ate 2, what would that mean” is how she put it…to which he answered 3, after counting on his fingers. Since I’m still resentful at this point, I am tempted to say I would mean you’re not living in Baby Home #2 in Angarsk because they don’t pass out cookies that freely…but I bit my tongue… Of course he passed, and we paid $12 USD and we were out of there…

In between his testing, we also had to do an addition blood test for AIDS. Again we don blue plastic covers on our feet, climb to the 3rd floor, wait in a long queue in a hallway that hasn’t been renovated since Stalin’s time one would think, and eventually go into the bright, yet cramped room. There is little room to more around, so you walk gingerly! NEVER will I forget the state of the art equipment. A empty Sprite bottle served as the disposal place for used needles. (Before you all panic, the needles were all sterile, removed from the sealed packages before our eyes). Some woman who was likely an Olympic Heavy Weight Wrestler in her time, takes the blood, puts two alcohol soaked cotton balls on the arm and tells you to hold it that way for 10 minutes, She then closes the vial, disposing of the excess blood into an open 10” diameter Rubbermaid plastic bowl that sits on the table nearby. As you leave, you CAREFULLY walk past the table, praying all the while you don’t knock the bowl of community blood over, and then run for you life….

Anyway, in between doctors, we went to see Harry. He came readily when the caregivers told him we were there, but as we walked downstairs to the same empty room they put us in last week he became withdrawn. Once inside the room, he got only worse. He wouldn’t speak wouldn’t play, wouldn’t do ANYTHING. No matter what we said or offered, he replied “Nee Hochay” (I don’t want). At one point he said he had to go to the bathroom, but when I brought him into the adjoining room, he saw there was no potty seat (yes, at four, they still sit on little potty chairs) and started to panic. I brought him back to his group where he made a mad dash for the bathroom. I feared he’d never re-emerge, and while I waited many of the kids swarmed. Danil, an older boy, walked over with the car we brought Harry last week, saying “Vitalia’s Machina”. Each time I went to take it, another little boy tried to grab it. The two boys began whacking each other, til a caregiver came and told Danil to give it to the younger boy. Danil insisted it was Vitaliy’s car, and the caregiver thus told him to give it to me. I took it – though it was hard to, since this other little boy clearly just wanted to play with it a bit. I just prayed Harry would return soon. Another little girl, Leza, plopped herself in my lap and wouldn’t budge, and Vadia (his real name is Vadim – which was Skip’s name) kept kissing me. These kids just crave genuine human affection. Eventually a smiling Harry returned, and we walked back to the room. Once inside however, it went from bad to worse, he tried to make another mad dash, but I stopped him, and he got mad. He cried, and cried, inconsolably. Nothing worked, We’d give him something and he’s throw it! I had never seen this in him, and it broke my heart. We didn’t know what to do, so just let him go for awhile. He ended up sitting behind a chair and crying for 15 minutes. I wanted to cry with him. At that point I was so angry at the Judge. I wanted to take a photo of his sobbing boy, hiding behind a chair, and give it to the Judge, and ask if THIS was what she meant on Monday when she said it was her job to decide what is in the best interest of the child!

Thankfully, a caregiver returned and told him something, and motioned for us to follow. Seems the music room we played in on Sunday was open and that was where we would finish our visit. The very second we entered that room, Harry was transformed back into the child we last visited on Sunday. HAPPY, playful, laughing, full of wonder. It is clear SOMETHING happened in that room that has terrified him. Both times we were there, he was scared, unresponsive, and just plain sad.

Our friend asked the staff what the room was for, normally, and they said it was used to isolate contagious children. That MAY explain it, but, I’m just not sure. I just know he hates that room. Perhaps it’s best I don’t know why… By the time the caregiver came to end our visit, and bring him for his lunch, he was full of big hugs and kisses. I’ll focus on that part of the visit…

I will post pictures from our visit in a little while…right now I must get dinner…Skip is hungry, and falling asleep…