Thursday, March 1, 2012

Progress is my middle name!

Oh come on, admit it, you loved "Back to the Future" too. In fact, so many people loved "Back to the Future" that when I Googled the above phrase to make sure I wasn't misremembering it, I got pages and pages of people quoting the same line in their blog posts. So now I'm an '80s movie geek and derivative. Happy Leap Day to you too.

Anyway, the progress. We met with our behavioral therapist this week ("our," of course, because she's therapy-ing DH and me as much as she is kiddo). Seems nice. She talked to us for a bit to get a sense of what was going on, though she seemed more interested in the possible OCD than the ADHD. I was a bit on edge because I knew she was watching us interact with kiddo the whole time -- and of course that's part of her job. I just dislike being watched. (I also suspect the unbelievably opaque sliding windows at the desk in the front office are a way to secretly observe the people in the waiting room. Although it's possible I've just watched way too many episodes of "24.") Kiddo was mostly behaving, sitting next to me on the couch, except when he started kicking my foot. I quietly said, "That's one," which more or less worked, which is good because I'm not sure you can really give a kid a time out in the middle of a doctor's appointment.

She had several suggestions, among them to do time outs in a chair in a quiet corner, rather than in his room. I kind of already knew we were supposed to be doing that -- "Supernanny" says so -- but getting him to stay in his room has been such a trial I didn't dare move him out in the open. She also said to leave the timer in sight, so he knows how much time is left. He did end up getting a time out that night and we plopped him on the spare dining room chair in the corner -- and he stayed there. The whole time. It was positively weird. I'll be even more impressed if he does it again.

The other major thing to work on is his tendency to run around in parking lots. Which is, obviously, bad. She said DH should let kiddo walk on his own as long as he's staying nearby, but the second he starts to run off, he has to hold Daddy's hand, and then no prize waiting for him in the car. It sounded like he did all right with that today.

As for the occupational therapist, seems most of them don't want to deal with insurance at all, let alone your attempt to get their services covered by insurance. So the one place I contacted, which is fairly close to our house, has just stopped returning my calls. Yeah, OK, I get it, you people can afford to have crappy customer service, moving on. (Seriously, I couldn't even get a live person on the phone. It just went right to voicemail.) I emailed the second facility, which appeared to be run by an actual nice human being, and am waiting to hear back.

The hospital finally sent us the diagnostic report -- mailed and emailed, even -- so I can send that on to the school district. Now it's possible that the plan was always to send it to us, and the holdup was just the doctor needing to compile and sign off on the final document. In which case the office staff could have just been out of the loop. Theoretically. It's also possible that they really weren't ever going to send us anything, on the grounds that it was "just a followup visit," and the only reason they did was that I was mean to them. Because sometimes people only do their jobs when you make them.

The report doesn't mention OCD, but does mention Oppositional Defiant Disorder, which also kind of makes sense. Aside from the behavioral therapy, the doctor also recommends fish oil. (Way ahead of you there, Doc.) No mention of occupational therapy, even though she specifically wrote us a prescription for it. So, not the most comprehensive report. Meaning either she just oops forgot to add that part while she was writing it, or she threw this thing together in a hurry because she hadn't been planning on writing one in the first place.

Really, I am so done with the hospital. I'm hoping the behavioral therapist more or less gets us where we need to be.

Cousin H. says dealing with this with her son was a full-time job for the first couple of years. I can completely see how that would be the case. Unfortunately I already have a full-time job, so time management is going to be a bit of an issue.

I am resolutely not thinking about all the years ahead in which we'll be dealing with these aggravations, because if I did, I would be extremely annoyed.

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