Truth be told, yesterday's visit wasn't a complete wash.
Dr. Ortho doesn't want to brace Trevor. He did admit if we saw a different doctor bracing of one kind or another would likely be recommended. But he falls in with the more the naturalistic approach philosophy. Letting Trevy's muscles continue to work for him until they no longer can. At that point we'll readdress bracing. For now...Trevy motors around fairly well. For a kid with half a brain.
Let me insert here...that I was not looking for bracing options. I just crave clarity on what direction to go with Trevy in the gross motor arena. Which I believe will flow into all other areas of development. As they each complement and build on each other.
Dr. Ortho strongly advocated more therapy. Of both the Physical and Occupational varieties. Intensive. Which is just a fancy way of saying outpatient. That gave me a Mommy Guilt Trip prick. Why haven't I pursued outpatient PT & OT yet? How did I let a whole year and half slip away? Am I that lazy? And is Trevy paying the price? Ugh.
Evaluations are in the insurance approval works.
He also made a point of emphasizing several times that we're operating on a time line. He musta said at least 10 times that by the time Trevy's in 1st grade he won't be such a developmental sponge. The plasticity clock strikes midnight somewhere in that very vague stretch between 5 and 7 years of age. I know he meant to be constructive. Let's take advantage of now kinda thing. And I agreed. But still. I found myself feeling so sad and teary eyed the whole drive home. Because 1st grade isn't really that far away. I mean...Trevy's fourth birthday is hovering on the horizon.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Round and round goes the plasticity clock.
Reminds me of Peter Pan. And the ticking alligator that was always hunting the lost boys.
Why does it always feel like we're running from something sinister and ominous in this world of Infantile Spasms?