Cori's room = bio hazard

After dropping Cori's overnight bag off at DCS yesterday afternoon, we came home to have a peaceful evening. Cori did call Beth for some reason. She told Beth what hospital she was going to and that she was going to a new foster home when she got out. She also told Beth not to tell me that last part. (Hint: Never expect Beth to keep secrets.) I don't know why she doesn't want me to know she's moving. I've been telling DCS since mid-December that I am not an appropriate home for her. She knew that. She was in the meeting. Anyway, that is the last I've heard from her. I'm guessing someone finally took her cell away.

Today at school, I got a message from her case worker. She says Cori needs more pants. (Cori had told me to pack the clothes in her chair. I did.) At the hospital, she's not allowed to wear shorts or capri pants or clothes with any kind of drawstring. There goes most of her wardrobe. I think she owns two pairs of jeans that fit that criteria. I guess someone at the hospital will be washing a lot. When I got home, I rounded up a few more things of Cori's that she might want with her - some comfy pajamas, her tennis shoes, jeans, etc. Her worker stopped by to pick them up. She offered me no information other than the name of the hospital Cori is in. (Of course, I already knew this.)

Finding her clothes necessitated digging through the pit she called her room. We've been having a severe towel shortage recently and couldn't figure out where they were. As of this evening, I've pulled 11 towels from the crap she has heaped in her room. To make it even more fun, I lot of what I'm pulling out has various spots of blood on them. I guess it's from her cutting and then wiping with whatever she has handy...in this case, ALL our towels. I really feel like I should have the full haz-mat suit to go in there. I've been leaving her door open, hoping that anything alive in there might walk out on its own while I'm not around. It's also helping dilute the smell. I'm nervous about touching much of anything for fear I'm going to encounter one of her cutting instruments. I sure don't want to be her blood sister. I do plan to remove all said instruments from her belongings before packing her stuff.

So far, I haven't found many cutting tools. One razor blade and a straight pin. I did find an empty pack of cigarettes and a box of matches. (Making me all the more thankful she didn't set us on fire as we slept one night.) I can't imagine where she's getting this stuff. We have just about everything locked up. No one here smokes. She really needs one-on-one attention and to have someone check her belongings daily for things that might harm her.

I've still got to deal with her bio grandmothers. Her mother's birthday is Sunday. She was planning to spend the day with them and take flowers to her mother's grave. I need to tell them that is off. They are going to be very sad to hear she's back in the hospital and even more sad to learn she's moving from here. They liked having her here. I let them be an active part of her life. They needed that. She needs it, too.

How bad does life must suck to be 16, in foster care for over 6 years, be separated from your bio siblings, have 4 failed adoptions, have multiple foster placements in the last two years, and not have the ability to truly love and trust someone. She's come by her problems honestly but that knowledge doesn't make living with her much easier.