Grams couldn't wait to high tale it outta here. She claims I was ripping her head off. It was fully unintentional if I was.
A side effect of stomaching through Trevy's crack of dawn Physical Therapy evaluation, I suppose. Evaluations have a way for drawing out my cranky.
The commute gives me a headache right off the bat. The price of living in the boondocks is that everywhere is a hike. But walking into a facility that looks more than old and overused. It's downright groady. Unclean. Disorganized. The gym a tangle of bikes and wedges and balls and mats. And not in the cute therapeutic way either. Because none looked like it'd had a bath in over a year. Everything was so Shagala Bagala...as we say in Swhaili. Walking into that after having driven 45 minutes through crazy commuter traffic...that's just insult to injury.
I have very little grace for gross. Especially when my insurance is being billed a hefty sum for my son (and me) to be tortured for an hour. Seriously...hire a cleaning company, people! If you can't keep the floor crumb free than maybe you shouldn't be in business.
If we were the last appointment of the day that would be one thing. But we were the first appointment on a Monday morning! And those crumbs I just wiped off the bottom of my sock don't feel fresh. Ick.
And then the evaluation itself. God...I hate evaluations. Especially with passive therapists. Trevor does not respond to passive. He walks all over passive. He blows raspberries in the face of passive. He breaks out the nasty "NO" for passive. And certainly ain't gonna jump over no stick or pop no bubble with no toes - for passive.
I try really really really hard not to be a helicopter mom. Cross my heart.
I don't wanna skew the results. But I just couldn't sit there and watch that. Not for one more bloody minute. It was like the woman had zilcho clue how to communicate with him. Like she had never worked with a non-verbalish neurologically interesting child before. If she weren't the very same PT that was with us for last week's Ortho appointment I would have sworn we were at the wrong facility. Trevy has come a looooong way over past year and a half...but he still doesn't have the comprehension nor attention for long and complex instructions.
Example: Come stand over here Trevor (he's on one side of the room she's on the other) and jump over this string with both feet
You're kidding me, right?
He might have caught the come and the jump from that direction. He certainly didn't retain the both feet part.
And besides...between Trevor over here and over there where she wants him...lives a ginormous foam slide and a very distracting green piano up in that window sill " oooh dare" (Trevy speak: over there) and a Barney puzzle on that table just begging to be dumped on the floor and chairs that when shaken just so make the most wonderful banging noise and sockets to touch (positive spin alert: at least we've phased outta licking the sockets) and doors to slam and cabinets to open...
Don't get me wrong. She was very kind. And I'm sure knowledgeable. Even if she did say he was using his right foot to kick when he only used his left. But she was trying. And even ,at one point, whipped out the sign for look while firmly commanding him to look at her. And she finally started demonstrating her requests for him first. Along with physically taking him by the hand and helping navigate him from here to there. After I showed her how we get it done at home. Ahem...Trevy doesn't really get a choice. I had warned her that he would need a lot of convincing redirection. And First - Then verbal cue-ing.
I feel so gripe-y. Ugh.
I'm not trying to be gripe-y.
It just really sucks.
It sucks to watch your child not understand what's being asked of him. It sucks that the professional seems unsure and unable to draw out his potential. It sucks to feel stale crumbs through your socks. It sucks to feel like your morning was a colossal waste of time. It sucks to wonder if maybe his physical delay is more about his cognitive delay than I've been willing to believe. It sucks to pep talk yourself that your son is smarter than he just looked in that room. It sucks that he can't assure me himself.
Moooom...I didn't jump because she was annoying! Not because I didn't understand.
You worry too much, Mom.
See, two feet clearing the ground! I've totally got it, Mom.
Because maybe he just didn't want to jump. Maybe he totally understood the command but made the mental choice to ignore it. Maybe he didn't pop the bubble with his toes because he likes to be lazy and not because his brain couldn't process the request. Maybe he kept stepping on the string as opposed to jumping over the string because his sensory impulse was too great to resist.
He just seemed so Lost Puppy.
That's our made up name. For when he's out of routine and unsure of himself. Trevy navigates the familiar really well. But the moment something changes (new environment, new song, new person) he gets very confused. You can see the insecurity and confusion all over his face. He's a Lost Puppy.
And the Lost Puppy breaks my heart. I desperately want him to understand his world. And not be confused by it. And it makes me never want to ever change a single thing. Ever. But that's not Life. And that's not fair to Trevy. He needs to learn to navigate the Unknown too. He needs to learn how to jump over the rope. And pop the bubbles with his toes. And other bizzaro commands. Because his life will always include evaluations. And therapy.
Although...I made the decision we're not going back there on the drive home. We'll look into other facilities. We really only have two other options. But I'd rather get a google degree and do it myself than waste our time, resources and energy going back there once a week. I can't handle crumbs. Stale or otherwise. Nope. We won't be going back.
Except to finish up his eval.
Cause we only made it half way through...what with all the distractions and passive induced raspberries.
Okay. I'm done complaining. For now.