My child is sick.
Really, really sick.
Catrina, heretofore referred to as "Chipmunk", is so sick right now (though she keeps telling me that she's fine), that it's a daily struggle for me to not hop on the next flight out of NY to FL to grab her from the group home she's in.
I'm also fighting in order to not call in every, single, media outlet available to me and reporting that my child has been trying to be seen by a doctor for the last month and a half because she's very ill, hair falling out, blurred vision, going deaf in one ear, diarrhea, vomiting (yeah, she's probably going to kill me for revealing all of that), and extremely exhausted and has been denied by the very people who are supposed to be caring for her.
There is a lot more to the story. Every layer that is pulled back in this situation just uncovers more and more gross negligence, ignorance and ugliness that I'm surprised that I'm not in jail for committing murder or assault and battery because of my child not being taken care of. I'm not a violent person. Not really. I have a temper. I'm aware of this fact. I own it and accept it. But that temper rarely gets aroused, it actually takes a lot to get me angry, once it does, however, it takes a long time for it to cool back down (usually 7 cigarettes, 3 beers, an hour of Sims 3, and a very vigorous, hard, sweaty bout of sex or masturbation).
But I am livid right now.
So, because of the fact that my child is sick and not with me (and I've spoken of Chipmunk before so everyone knows that she is the child of my heart and not of my womb, I had custody of her a few years back and that bond between us was never and never will be severed), the fact that I'm having to have other people that I trust, who can think a little more clearly than I can, to call and get DCF and others to investigate and take Chipmunk to the doctor (and wow, this is totally going to be the longest run-on sentence ever and I don't even care), there's not much else getting done in my life. I'm writing, but it's spurts of writing. I'm making book covers and taking care of stuff for the publishing house that I own/run with my sister Cherie, The Rooster & The Pig Publishing, but it's just little things. My world and my thoughts are consumed by Chipmunk and what's going on with her.
I want my child with me. She's only 17 and has already endured so much and I just want her to be here so that I can take care of her, watch over her and make sure that she knows how loved she is, how beautiful, talented, smart, amazing, funny, adorable, loving and supportive she is. I want to dispel the ugly words put in her head by her biological parents and other foster homes/parents and let her know that she's not a burden and she's not a bad kid. Chipmunk is amazing, she's my dose of sunshine, brightens my day, and I want her hear with me.
I want her well and taken care of.
But, I wanted to let you all know why you haven't seen a lot of me and why you won't see a lot of me until this situation is settled. You see, I'm in "Daddy Mode" right now. I'm not in "Vicktor Alexander" or "Big Brother Vic" or "The Vickster" or "The Dom" or "Vicktor" mode. I'm not going to be going to blogs and leaving encouraging words every day and emailing people every day to support them. I'm still going to do those things, but they won't be every day, because I'm in "Daddy Vic Mode," my child needs me and her needs come first. I know you all understand and I thank you in advance for your support, and if you want to help (b/c I know that many of you will ask me how you can), I honestly don't know how you could right now, beyond sending out positive thoughts and vibes (although if you know how you can help, don't hesitate to tell me), but thank you for wanting to help.
I'll see you all when I'm out of Daddy Mode.
-Vicktor Aleksandr B