Partly Sunny With a Slight Chance of Something Going Terribly Wrong

December 3, 2008 at 11:07 am Leave a comment

As excellent writers tend to do, Amy Corbett-Storch of Amalah inspired me to share more of what’s been happening with Max, and our pursuit of help for him and for our entire little family.

First, if you don’t read Amalah often, start.  Immediately.  She’s insightful, brilliantly articulate, hilarious, mixed with just the right amount of snark and f-bombs.  Go.  Now.  Then come back.  I’ll wait.

She’s pretty freakin’ funny, no?

Let’s bring you up to speed on where we are since last I updated my adoring reader:

Max still has been having behavior problems at school.  We’ve discovered some triggers for his outbursts, but a canyon-esque type gap exists between his extreme issues at school and his relatively expected 3-year old behavior here at home.  Just before Turkey day, Max’s class hosted a little preschool soiree’ to celebrate the holiday with a feast, games and crafts.  D was in school with Max that day and brought him home 2 hours early because Max had a major, uncontrollable, screaming meltdown.  Change in routine?  Too many kids?  Who the feck knows, but something tripped him up and caused the early send home.  Sadly, he was devastated over the notion of leaving school and coming back to our house.  He wanted so badly to stay, but just couldn’t handle…something.  What that something was, we had no idea, but I was bound and determined to find out.

That afternoon while the kids napped, I phoned the child psychologist we’d planned to meet with a week later and pleaded with him to see us sooner.  Two days before Thanksgiving, this blessed man saw my little family and listened to our story.

He listened.  Intently.  And observed, and took notes and finally bestowed upon us perhaps the greatest gift we’ve received since my children were born.  He offered insight.  And help.

Just in the brief hour he spent with us, the good doc gave a preliminary assessment.  Max, he believes suffers from some sensory integration issues.  He suggested starting the ball rolling to schedule an exhaustive occupational therapy evaluation. We are to return in a week after completing questionairres to begin the architecture of coping strategies to help Max at school and at home.  In his eyes, we’re dealing with what appears to be a unique little brain that processes the abundance of stimuli a bit differently from the rest of us.

I highly doubt it translates through your computer, but just typing that last part, the part about helping my sweet little boy, helping us be a more normal family, sends a wave of calm and relief over me.

Now that you’re up to speed, here’s what, we hope, lies ahead:

Today, two representatives from our city’s school district, the director of special services and a speech language pathologist, came to Max’s class for an observation, to determine how they could be of assistance in the whole, grand scheme and if professionals and public programs might be available to help.  Tomorrow, we meet with the good Dr. again to review Max’s developmental history and questionaires to create a sensory profile.

Certainly, what we’re dealing with, in our non-scientific, non-expert opinion is something on what is referred to as “low-end”, since we hear many this isn’t something I haven’t seen before‘s and keep in mind he’s only three‘s and preschool can be overwhelming for any kid‘s.  Nonetheless, it still affects us greatly in a variety of ways.  Our boy might be brandished The Bad Kid.  His behavior makes simple outings terribly stressful and most times, it’s simpler to just avoid them rather than attempt and fail miserably.  The frustration of beating my chest and shouting as loud as I can, yet still being turned away and told “he’s fine” or, worse, that a medical professional can’t or won’t see or treat him is crippling.  Perhaps worst of all is the inevitable assumptions that we’re easy or bad parents, and that the simple solution is a bit more discipline.  I understand that some may find these diagnoses and dysfunctions a convienient way to excuse the behavior of our kids, but I invite those people to walk a week in my shoes.  To see how it feels when your kid can’t hear a bell ring without screaming, covering his ears and ducking for cover.  To watch him completely fall apart after one of his classmates brushes by him, and not be able to regain control.  For a mother to feel that helpless…it’s unexplainable with words.

But, we’ve turned a corner, at least where treatment is concerned.  It’s all good news, and the forecast looks like partly sunny with just a chance of something going terribly wrong which, if you’re at ALL familiar with my luck, is one damn fine outlook.


Entry filed under: Autism/Aspergers or Something Like It, Blogging, Momma Drama.

That’s MY Kid Back to Blogging…Finally

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