the professionals

You'd never guess.

Peter and I went to his very first psychiatry appointment yesterday.  Me thinks it might be our last.

The doctor took a history from me, and asked about symptoms.  Then, after spending ten minutes with my beloved son, the woman calls me back in and says these things:

- no ADHD

- she suspects Sensory Integration Disorder (not an accepted psychiatric diagnosis--no evidence that the "therapies" work, considered quackery by many in neurological field, pediatric field, and psychiatry field. Is gaining acceptance in school districts, however.)

- she suspects auditory processing disorder

- she suspects visual processing disorder

- tells me he is probably sensitive to milk protein, and wheat gluten (even though no food allergies in nuclear family, and no sign of GI symptoms).

She gave me a huge stack of stuff to read, and suggested some vitamin supplements that run $70.00/bottle, with a three-pill-a-day dose.

She gave me a prescription for a speech/language evaluation, a sensory integration evaluation, and a specialized vision evaluation.

I told her we had already made the switch to whole foods (no additives/dyes), so she spared me that lecture.  She feels too many kids are being diagnosed with ADHD and autism, when the real problem is toxins in the environment, coupled with genetic sensitivities (or allergies).  The toxins cause, in essence, brain damage--leading to sensory issues and later, behavior and learning issues.

It didn't matter to her that my son wasn't having any problems in school (okay, he is a lousy speller, but Daddy kinda is too).  Usually, a learning disability translates (by eight years old) into problems grasping new concepts, or in retaining new information.  I never spend more than two days on a new concept.  He gets it by day two.

He displays an awful lot of ADHD symptoms when not kept busy, but of all the sensory integration symptoms, I could only pick out a couple that seemed a good match--the fact that he chews on his sleeves, that he's hyperactive, and that he gets hot and bothered easily.  That's overwhelming evidence, wouldn't you say?

While we were in her office, Peter complained about his loose tooth.  She immediately picked up on that, and said that kids with sensory integration disorder frequently have more trouble with loose teeth.

Okay, I didn't laugh at that.  But I wanted to.  As a former first-grade teacher, I can tell you that EVERY CHILD IS BOTHERED BY LOOSE TEETH.  They are obsessed until the tooth comes out--driving their teachers and parents nuts. They rarely stop either trying to twist it out, or worrying about it hurting when it comes out, or accidentally swallowing it when it comes out.  Am I wrong here, Moms?

The thought of his fairly serious anxiety disorder just suddenly disappearing after giving up all milk products, or all gluten products, seems laughable to me.  Yes, that is her answer to his anxiety.  It is related to sensory integration, and with diet changes, it will probably go away.

The therapist (an intern) he is seeing for his anxiety disorder isn't helping either.  He is supposed to think happy thoughts, so the anxious thoughts will go away.  Or he is supposed to work on relaxation breathing.  Or tell himself to STOP as soon as the scary thoughts begin.  All this is well and good, truly--except that none of it is working.  He still won't go to children's church unless one of us sits within view.  Then, he keeps looking at us, to make sure we haven't betrayed him and left without his knowledge (we don't ever leave).

He starts worrying about Sunday church by Wednesday, and Wednesday AWANA by Sunday night.  Nothing has changed, even though he's been off of the Strattera at least three weeks.

Truly, I think he will get over this separation anxiety.  The more time that passes since last summer's VBS mishap (my husband forgot Mary in the church nursery, and came home without her, only to drive immediately back to get her) the more likely he is to quit dwelling on it.  It might be a year or two, but he will get over it.

This problem will likely be replaced by something else that unduly bothers him, but that too, will eventually pass.  Over time he will learn coping skills, with our help and the Lord's help.  I'm not sure going to all these appointments is doing us a bit of good.

The whole thing yesterday reminded me of the time last spring when I took Mary for a speech evaluation.  The therapist spent about ten minutes with her, and then decided she had apraxia, which is a fairly serious speech disorder, much like what happens after someone has a stroke and has trouble speaking, only it is not from trauma, but present from birth usually.

Mary started talking at 27 months, and has developed a beautiful vocabulary with long sentences, using words (correctly in context) like obviously, miraculous, delectable, terrible, horrible, magnificent, and actually.  She does not have a language disorder, although her articulation isn't entirely clear yet to strangers.

At age two, at least 50% of a child's speech should be correctly understood by strangers; at age 3, 75% should, and at age 4, 100% of the child's speech should be understood by strangers.  Mary, at age 3 years, two months, makes herself understood at a rate of 65-70% (for strangers), so she is lagging a bit in articulation, but I suspect that is due to her pacifier use past age one.  Peter also used a pacifier past age one, and he also has articulation problems (th and l), which we are working to correct at home.

Sadly, when I was in the educational system, I believed wholeheartedly in the wisdom of professionals, rather than in parents.  Now, it's quite the opposite.

My son is very hard to raise.  I'm left with that.  He makes me shout out to the Lord often, for various reasons.  Today, for example, he didn't stop talking the entire day.  I'm emotionally exhausted, and dread doing the dishes, or anything else tonight.

But he is also a fantastic kid--full of life and love and ideas.

He'll be just fine, and I love him just the way he is.  

I guess it took a visit to some arrogant "professional" to make me realize that I know my child, and what he needs, and what works for him.

Of course I do.

Why did I ever think (again) that some "professional" could tell me what my child needed?

Professionals can be a wonderful resource.  But that's all--just a resource.  Not the answer.