20 The Cigarette Burn

The Cigarette Burn (August 28, 2000)
Chapter 16

People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child -- our own two eyes. All is a miracle. - Thich Nhat Hanh

Monday August 28, 2000 

It had been a long weekend without the sparkle of my grandson's eyes. Without a word, he could "play the crowd" on the bus with a tilt of his head and a swing of his feet, but most of all he played them with his eyes, his loving happy eyes. There seemed to be a whole story lurking behind those dark brown orbs, and, so effortlessly, he endeared himself to strangers - how much more he endeared himself to me his grandmother who had loved him since birth, who had cared for him, slept with him and sang to him. He was a precious soul and even before Children's Services came into our lives and snatched away my liberal time with him, I savored every minute I had with him.

Today, Monday August 28, 2000, I would be granted a meager hour and a half visit with my grandson. With such a short allotment of time, from 9: 30 to 11: 00, now every second became precious. But C. was scheduled to bring my grandson today and for this I was happy. C. was a good and honest person and she was as much a friend as a worker for Children's Services could be. She had made herself available for special times and visits which I would otherwise not have gotten except for the flexible and generous giving of her time. With this in mind, I looked forward to my visitation as I scurried around my apartment, towel entwining my body getting ready for my morning shower.

BUZZ- BUZZ. "It was 9:00! Who could be at my door so early in the morning?" When I picked up the intercom, I was quite numbed to find out that it was R., the dreaded Children's Services driver who had caused me so much trouble earlier in the spring, announcing her arrival. I heard my stunned voice asking why she was there and not C. and telling her that my visit was not suppose to start until 9:30. - There had been a change in the schedule. Now my visit was to be from 9:00 to 10:30 - I found myself asking why she had not phoned ahead to let me know of the change. - "No time" - "But you have a cell phone", I replied.

What was her point of doing this to me? Had she hoped by her early arrival that she might "catch me at something"? Well the only thing she had caught me in was my towel and I told her that I still needed to take my shower - She offered to come back at 9:30 cautioning that she would still be leaving at 10: 30. Well, no shower was going to take a half hour and I wasn't trusting that she would be back in that space of time, thus diminishing my visitation even more, so I told her to come in and watch ______ while I quickly took my shower. I wanted as much time as possible with my grandson.

Distracted by this disruption to my routine, as I rushed to get into the bathroom, I neglected to note my grandson's demeanor as he came through the door. My time was short, the day was beautiful and I wanted to get outside and spend some quality time with him. When I finished my shower, I threw on my clothes and quickly packed the stroller. Hurriedly I softly patted on his sun screen and then I strapped my "Pookie", my "sweetie", my "darling", my "love" into his seat and off we went into the sunshine - with R. in tow behind us of course.

My heart is with ______ and, as I always did, I tried to block out this stranger who imposed upon the intimacy of our family love. Can you even begin to image how difficult it is to enjoy moments and make memories with your grandson as the eyes of a hostile person watches your every move, knowing that she will twist everything and anything during your visitation and write you up in a negative manner.

This is my grandson and this is my time with him. I will make positive memories for him despite your wickedness! Though I will read your lying notes in your reports when they are filed with the court, he will not read them. His will be the memories, the true memories of this day, and you cannot take these away from him. I will ignore you and I will focus on him and I will love him and he will feel the love I have for him despite your hostile presence.

We walked along the side of the lake and when we got to the small grassed area off the sidewalk I stopped and freed _____ from the stroller straps and carefully lifted him out. We played with his toys and when _____ saw a couple jogging along the sidewalk, he tried to mimicked them as young children do in serious tones, and I laughed at his antics and joined in with this "serious job" of running.

It was during this mimicking jog that ______ fell on the asphalt not "ash fault" as it appeared in the report. And he did not cry as R. was later to put in her report. But it was when I went to help him up that I first noticed this awful hole on the inside of his hand. Momentarily I was puzzled. His tumble had been light, he wasn't crying, how could he have hurt himself so badly? Then I realized that what I was looking at was not a fresh wound. But it was a strange wound. It was a small circular hole that penetrated the inner base of his middle finger. The "meat", as I called it, was clearly visible. And I was astounded. I looked into ______’s eyes. He had been watching me looking at his wound and I wanted to cry.
"What has happened to you?" I blurted out.

And I saw a story in his eyes that he wanted to tell me but he couldn't say. He was 1 ½ years old and he was silent, but his eyes penetrated mine. Those eyes were so brave, I remember thinking they looked so brave. And I remember thinking that he is too young to be brave. A person so young should not be asked to be brave. This is not right. There is something wrong here. And his eyes kept watching me.

Immediately I took him over to R. stretching out his hand for her to see.

“What has happened to him?” I asked.

I was shocked because I understood the regular procedure was to inform me upon my grandson's arrival of any unusual marks or bruises. She had told me nothing and I was just finding out now!

"The foster mother said he touched a hot iron." she replied

"A hot iron!" I responded.- He was just a little boy! "Where was it? On the floor? He couldn't reach an iron on an ironing board. “Besides," I explained, "an iron wouldn't leave a mark like that. This is a small round isolated burn. An iron burn would cover a larger area. "

I was stunned I knew that explanation was a lie. But why would they lie? And I felt so helpless.

My visitation time was almost finished. I wanted to be able to show this to someone, to have a witness. But I was not allowed to.

"Has he been taken to a doctor" I asked.

"No, the foster mother bandaged him and put ointment on it but _____ picked it off."

All I could do was insist that he be taken to a doctor and I told R. that I would be checking when I saw him on Wednesday to see that he had been taken to a doctor.

When _____ was brought for his visit on Wednesday, R. told me he had been taken to the doctor, but when I got the Children's Services case recording reports there was no indication that this had been done. Later, when I described the burn to a friend, I was told it was a cigarette burn. I was mortified. I remember, at the time I did not want to accept this, and I pushed it somewhere in the back of my mind. Surely, this could not be correct. My grandson was no more than a baby, a mere 1 ½ years old. Surely, this was not possible - I didn’t want this to be possible! Then, when I went to see my doctor, I described the burn to her, and she immediately said, "cigarette burn". I was stunned.

I am convinced that my grandson was never taken to a doctor. Why would they do that? If they had, it would have been recognized immediately as a cigarette burn.

Almost 3 years later, I would come across a booklet published by Nova Scotia Children's Services, the very department that allowed this to happen, entitled Indicators of Possible Abuse or Neglect. Here, on page 4, I read that one of the physical indicator of physical abuse is "small circular burns". I remember, the moment I read those words, I was immediately swept into the presence of my little grandson, and I was overshadowed with a depth of pain that I had not, up to this point, allowed myself to feel concerning this burn. In response, I threw the book down and, until today I have not even been able to look into this book.

However, now that I read this page anew, it is ironic that I read on this very same page the following words:

Section 22(2)(a) of the Children's and Family Service's Act states that a child is in need of protective services where " the child has suffered physical harm inflicted by a parent or guardian of the child or caused the failure of a parent or guardian to supervise and protect the child adequately."

What is a person to do? Where is a person suppose to complain to when the Department of Children's Services are responsible for the "physical harm inflicted by . . . a guardian (the foster parents)" but they act in the "best interest of " themselves?

Tell me, what gives this department the right to cause such pain in my soul?