Carrie Link

(Continued...)

ALPHABET BOY

Before I can rip him a new one, the doctor tells me, "We've waited long enough. It's time we have this boy thoroughly evaluated. I'm going to send you to Emmanuel Children's Hospital."

Never has it felt so wrong, to be so right. I just wanted him to tell me that indeed, this boy cried too damn much, but that he would out grow it. I did not want to hear he needed a thorough diagnosis from a children's hospital.

The appointment is made. My husband and I take our boy to the best of the best, Dr. Budden. She has a reputation for uncovering every possible cause for every possible problem, and quickly.

We spend 90 minutes with the woman. Our boy fusses, twists, cannot get settled the entire time. She looks him over head to toe, asks us a million questions, in addition to the million we've already answered on all the forms we've completed.

"He is completely flat footed. He needs to wear orthodics. That will help him with the walking and balance.

He has moderate to severe dyspraxia - poor motor planning/firing of information from the brain to the mouth.

He has low muscle tone. He needs to see a physical therapist.

He has moderate to severe auditory processing disorder (APD) - poor communication between what he hears and what he understands.

He has moderate to severe sensory integration dysfunction (SID). What his eyes, ears, mouth, nose and body senses is extremely disturbing to him, he is not able to process it effectively.

He probably has ADHD, but we will want to hold off on that right now.

His pectus excavatum ("sunken chest") may be putting pressure on his heart and lungs. We need to have that x-rayed to determine if that's the case.

You need to get in touch with Portland Early Intervention Program (PEiP) and have them evaluate him for services.

You need to call this physical therapist, that speech pathologist, this occupational therapist and that pediatrician."

In 90 minutes we've I've gone from being the lone voice, trying to convince others there is a problem, to being inundated with facts that prove me "right." Hearing PEiP is particularly disturbing. Must be the water in NE Portland. Everyone I know that was having children around the time I was, ended up in PEiP. PEiP is not where you want to land. Ideally early intervention changes the trajectory of these child, and I believe it can. I've never seen a kid from PEiP move from the "Special Needs" category to "Neuro-Typical" category, though. Never. They improve, they are never cured.

Stunned we leave the office, obligatory "Thank yous" and we go home. Home to where our new lives begin. Home to where we cannot live in denial for one more minute. Home to where the two-year-old lives, too, for whom we must maintain our composure. Home to where I manage the chaotic estate of my recently deceased father, long-distance. Home to where we have already broken ground for a new house and are in the building process, acting as our own general contractors. Home to where my husband has told me he plans to leave his job, work from home, do his own thing. Home to where I have no choice, none, but to put one foot in front of the other, indefinitely. Breaking down will have to wait. Right now I must go home.