#carmenblogs

[carmeninguanzo]

Prayers for Sammy...

She was a single mother to her only child, and every morning via zoom I watched as she cradled her boy during the morning routines, as she tried to keep up with her boy during gym classes. I had never met her since this entire school year has been virtual. But I’ve heard the story about her untimely death this past Wednesday due to fucking Covid. I’ve cried for her. I’ve cried for her boy these last couple of days and nights. 

You see, Sammy is an only child. He’s twelve-years-old, just like my boy. He’s nonverbal and on the higher side of the autism spectrum, just like my boy. How will he be able to understand that he can’t see his mommy ever again - at least not in this lifetime. How can he survive this? I cannot help but wonder... I’ve heard his father is also a much older ill man who lives in Africa, and whose beliefs were different when it came to raising a child with autism. And so his mother had no one, except an elderly sister who has decided she cannot watch him and will put him in a group home if his father doesn’t come for him. Who will give him comfort, love, and support when he needs it most? Who will walk with him through the life challenges he will inevitably face? Will he ever recover from this trauma? How could this have happened? I’m having a difficult time trying to make sense of this because that woman deserved to live for her son. Until Covid, she had lived a healthy life, I've been told. That boy deserved to have his mommy here with him still today! How could I not be sad about this? How could you not be sad after hearing such devastating news?

As parents, our hearts ache at the thought of something happening to us and leaving our children. However, many of us with typically developed children know that eventually, they’ll be okay. Eventually, they’ll be able to care for themselves and go on with their lives. But as a parent to a child with special needs that cannot yet take care of himself, and perhaps never will, THIS hits differently. This is a fear my husband and I live with daily. And although our faith in God is huge, this is our reality. 

And so when I think about what Sammy’s mother went through as she felt her life slipping away, wondering if her son would be okay - my heart breaks. Last night, as I massaged Evan’s body, as I do every night after his warm bath. As I cuddled him in his bed and read him bedtime stories, I prayed for him. I couldn’t help but wonder what nighttime routines Sammy would be forever missing with his mommy. Tears and snot covered my cheeks, my mouth, and my pillow. I will forever keep Ms. Sharon in my heart and prayers. Praying that wherever she is, she can one day find peace. In the meantime, I will continue to try and find out about his whereabouts and figure out in what small way I can make a difference in his life. In the meantime, PLEASE keep this little angel in your prayers too. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, let's ALL pray that his daddy, who arrives today to sign papers, will instead decide to take him. I pray he realizes what an angel his son truly is, and how much he needs him now more than ever. I pray they find comfort in each other.

My Evan had been sad too, and every now and then, we’d find him tearing. I wonder if he knows what’s going on and if he’s feeling his buddy’s pain...

[carmeninguanzo]

My Co-vid Reality...  (Written some time in April 2020)

I have been unable to write with the exception of a few posts for autism awareness. My heart is constantly aching for our suffering world. And any time I dare complain about anything, I look above and thank God for the countless blessings my family and I can rejoice over. We are all healthy! Evan and I do not go out, and only have we left the house on three separate occasions for car rides and fresh air. We went to the beach boardwalk one of those three days and I can’t say it was relaxing, although that was the reason for going there. However, it was, for Evan! Which is what really mattered, considering he is obsessed with water. Our little fish angel.

There were not many people for Orchard beach on a Friday afternoon, but I panicked if anyone came too close to us. Not that they were, but 20-30 feet away on a few occasions was enough to nervously bring my child closer to me. I judged, and judged, and judged, as I do every single time I’ve stepped outside my home. Why is that person not wearing a mask, and why are those people so close together, and OMG, do these group of kids not know this disease is killing people! Why are they hanging out like this isn’t happening! And without a masks all on top of each other! This is how they’ll bring it home to their parents, or their grandparents, or their siblings, aunts or uncles! God, please bless them because none of them know any better.  

I’ll never forget the first time I left my house. I had been home for almost three weeks and went out to McDonald’s to buy my dear friend dinner due to her being stuck at home with Co-vid. I wore my mask and gloves. Stepping out of my home this evening, there was a cool breeze, a breeze that to me, felt infected with the virus. What is going on? My heart is pounding. My stomach feels tight. Why do I feel this way? Even after sitting in my car I felt unsafe. Did Ray wipe everything down in here? The car had just been serviced two days ago. I didn’t dare crack the windows. The streets were deserted. The night felt somber... 

There are three cars in front of me at the McDonald’s drive-thru. I observe if the person in the car in front of me is wearing gloves and a mask before putting down their window to place their order. They are. That’s a smart person, I said to myself. I’m next. I get ready to place my order, but first need to look around to make sure there’s no one outside of my car asking for money (as I’ve often encountered). There’s no one and I’m thankful for that tonight. Not only would it break my heart, but under these circumstances I won’t be able to put down my window and offer them money, as I always do. I could if I wanted to, but I’m petrified. And I don’t want my heart to ache any more, as it does every time I see a homeless person. I place my order and move up. When I approach the window to pick up my food, the servers have NO gloves and NO masks!!!! What in the world are these people thinking! They’re right next to each other! I say a prayer again. 

I take off my gloves and look through my purse for my wallet because I don’t want to spread the virus that I’m convinced is in my gloves, to my belongings. I take out my debit card and put my gloves back on as the server is now impatiently waiting for me. I give him my debit card and he gives me an attitude. I don’t take it personal because I know the fear is real. I know we are all swimming in uncertainty. But why aren’t ya’ll wearing a mask though, while ya’ll serving our food! I want to tell him, but I don’t. This is just not the time. There’s now a car backing up towards me, and then pulls over to the right of me. He’s trying to get my attention and I fearfully, finally put my window down. 

“Sorry to bother you,” he tells me. “But would you please give this back to him and tell him I asked for a girl toy with the happy meal, not a boy one?” Reluctantly, I take the toy and give it to the server and explain. The guy then comes out of the car and grabs the toy. He must’ve seen the fear through my mask. Omg, the server has no gloves and this entire transaction just went down without him being protected. How could this be! I hope he washes that toy before taking the virus home to his child. I couldn’t help but pray...

I drive to my friend’s house who is only like five minutes away. I’m super panicking by now because I now have to get out of my car and into a building. Hold the handrail of the building door, buzz for her to let me in, and walk to the elevator. VIRUS! The elevator is there. I open the door and place the bag directly in front of the elevator for her to receive it upstairs. I’m suffocating by now and realize I’m holding my breath. It’s ok Carmen, you can breathe. You’re wearing an N95 masks, but I’m still freaking out and just want to run out of the building fast before someone walks in and I’m forced to be in close contact with them. I rush into my car, take off my gloves, throw them in a bag, and then obsessively sanitize my hands. I grab the steering wheel and freak out because I forgot to put on a fresh clean pair, corona free, gloves. I sanitize my hands again and put on the gloves. I start to drive away, but my phone rings. I pull over, take off my gloves and grab my phone to answer the call. It’s my friend thanking me for the food. I sanitize my hands and put on my gloves again. I drive home, never having felt this eager to get back. My safe, clean, sanitized, place. I take off one glove to grab my stuff from the car because I don’t want to transmit the corona to my stuff and then take it home! I’m confused again with grabbing my keys, my phone, and my wallet. I don’t know what the heck I touched with the ungloved hands. I go into my home and take everything off by the door, go to the bathroom and scrub myself down. I get some Clorox wipes and disinfect my phone, my keys, my wallet, my debit card, the door knob and anxiously wonder, what have I forgotten to clean? I put on my gloves again and take the McDonalds bag to the table, taking everything out before washing my hands again and daring to eat. I tell my husband, who has been home, to wash his hands because he touched the bag and wrappers. I explain how nerve wrecking the past 30 minutes have been, and he stares at me. “I don’t ever want to go out there again. It was too nerve-wrecking. How the hell do you do this almost every day when you go to work and to the supermarket to shop for us, your parents, my mother, your grandkids because you don’t want none of them to be exposed! But what about you my beloved and angelic husband? You are asthmatic. Who’s going to protect you?” 

[carmeninguanzo]

Who Knew Twitter Could Be Therapeutic?

In the past four weeks I’ve been severely struggling with a personal situation. I’ve been depressed and incredibly anxious as I felt as a child whenever there was something I wanted to express to my mother, but knew I couldn’t because of fear of getting the words slapped back in. This feeling is horrible! And although I’m usually one who speaks about the difficult subjects for the purpose of helping someone with a similar situation, I have decided to first go through the experience and the rollercoaster of emotions I have been flushing - learn the lesson this is going to teach me. It’s been by far, the most difficult time of my life and I had no idea that “tweeting” with purpose these last couple of days would be therapeutic. Not only because of what I’ve been able to share, but because of the things people share that I’ve been paying attention to and my interaction since creating my new Twitter account a few days ago. I had no idea that Twitter was meant to be interactive in all the years I had my old account for! Or maybe I just didn’t care much about it once I became involved in Instagram, especially since IG gives you the option of simultaneously sharing your posts on Twitter and Facebook (EXACTLY what I’ve been doing). I am now realizing that using my Twitter and Facebook account became irrelevant to me. Thanks to my New Media class, I’ve learned the importance of social media for writer’s, and how in reality, social media has the potential of becoming my biggest platform. In my class read, Create Your Writer Platform, Sambuchino states, “While it’s imperative that you engage in some kind of social media to build community and construct a platform, how you interact in these communities is entirely up to you” (pg. 155). This book and Social Media for Writers by Tee Morris & Pip Ballantine have been a huge eye opening resources for me! As I’ve read through these books, I have found myself having to take breaks from the literal reality slaps I’ve been receiving. In understanding I have been using Twitter inappropriately and without “purpose and intent” and simply talking, but not listening has been huge! “Twitter is a total waste of your time and anyone who follows you if you’re not following the three rules: Be useful, be personal, be interactive” (Sambuchino, pg. 157). I now hear you Sambuchino, I now hear you!