By Cathy Jameson

The kids had a snow day last week.  While they usually do better with a routine, I will always welcome an alarm-clock free day in the middle of the week.  With no need for any of us to leave the house, I wondered what I could do with the oodles of hours I had in front of me.  I could catch up on bills and emails.  I could make a double batch of gluten-free pancakes for Ronan.  Or I could clean out my closet.  Since it had been a while since I went through my closet, I decided to start some spring cleaning there.  Tossing aside clothing I didn't care for or fit it into anymore, by lunchtime I had a nice stash of giveaways to bring to the thrift shop.  I had half the day still ahead of me, so I decided to deep clean my closet.  That meant pulling out some storage bins I'd stashed in a dark corner under some dresses.  On the floor, hidden behind some full-length gowns I have, the bins were filled with old IEP notes, copies of old medical records, and countless years’ worth of old EOBs.  Only I knew about those papers, and for years, I let them bother me.  

I know I should've chucked much of what was in those storage bins a long time ago, but for several reasons I’d saved every single piece of paper in them.  I knew I had a big job ahead of me, so I lugged everything to the dining room to start to go through it.  Some documents were originals while others were copies.  The earliest reports went back to 2001 and to my first pregnancy.  All my life, I couldn’t wait to be a mom.  When I saw my old medical record, I was whisked back to happy memories.  With that ‘textbook’ pregnancy and a healthy baby resulting, I was as equally excited when we learned that child number 2 was on the way.  As I continued to go through each file folder, I was fast-forwarded in time.  Files related to Ronan were now at my fingertips.  My emotions changed. 

In that next stack, I came across handwritten notes mixed in with therapy reports from Ronan’s preschool days.  I found food diaries I'd kept when Ronan was being seen at a feeding clinic.  I found emails I’d printed out from other moms.  Some were encouraging, Cat, you can do this!  Others were littered with terms I’d yet to fully comprehend – Look up the Omnibus, vaccine injury tables, and mitochondrial disease.  Reading through some of those pages was hard.  I knew so little back then.  What I did know at the time, that my once healthy child now needed intensive care, didn’t make any sense. 

Some days, it still doesn’t make sense.

The more Ronan-related papers I found, the slower I started to sort.  Therapy suggestions, educational goals, medical emergencies, and outdated treatments plans brought me back.  They brought me back to a very dark place, but I continued.  One page at a time.  One painful memory at a time.  I read everything.  It was not easy, but if I was going to get this spring cleaning job done right, I needed to go through each page I’d saved.  After reading each page, I then needed to decide something:  keep it, recycle it, or toss it. 

Even though some of the paperwork brought back memories that are now part of an unfortunate reality, I decided to save several forms and statements.  My save pile was small, but later, something in it would become quite significant.  If I decided not to save the paper, I recycled what didn’t have any identifying information on it and created a pile of things to be shredded. 

Another hour.  Another file.  Another stack to read.  As the day wore on, I was happy to see my shred pile growing.  Toward the end of the day, I pulled out a file that was filled strictly with medical papers.  That file contained pharmacy print outs and medical encounter reports.  I’d stapled the reports to the accompanying Explanation of Benefits (EOB) from our old insurance company.  Save, recycle, toss.  Save, recycle, toss.  I’d gotten into a groove, but I then cringed.  I saw the term "Preventative" on one of Ronan’s EOBs.  Next to it was a dollar amount.  $102.42.  If I could get a refund on those vaccines, I would.