We’ve finally gotten a final diagnosis of Autism for our son. For those of you who don’t know what that entails, it’s a three hour set of tests designed to see where the little guy stands in certain levels of development and personal interaction. It’s grueling for the parent and in the case of my son, it’s sheer hell involving rapid changes in activities and a level of contact that he’s not necessarily comfortable with.
For a child with autism, this is a form of sensory overload. It destroys the routines that the child is used to and pushes them far outside their comfort zone. In the case of Lil’ B. the half-way point was the breaking point. An unscheduled 30 minute break was added to the schedule to give him cool-down time at that point and a slow walk around the building where he was in charge of what he did got him back on track for the rest of the testing… Barely.
By the end of the session both he and I were frayed and frazzled, but in true style, he still didn’t nap. He spent the rest of the day destroying anything he touched and trying very hard to find a comfortable place in life again. I spent the rest of the day trying to make sure that he didn’t do any permanent damage to himself or the furniture, but still lost the sofa in the process. (Yep, it’s a goner, he put three large tears in the back cushions.)
It’s not this one incident that has me writing today, though. Both my wife and I are thrilled to have a formal diagnosis in-hand. It’s been a long time coming. The issue I have is that now every single agency that is supposed to be helping our son has slated another set of assessments, most of which are also full evaluations. In the next two weeks my son will be in the center ring of his very own dog and pony show and playing the part of both ringmaster and clown.
I’m grateful for the help. I’m happy that he’ll be attending preschool soon. I’m glad that everyone is pushing so hard to get this done as quickly as possible, but I hate having to put him through this more than once. It messes with his mind, it affects his moods and it makes him an emotional wreck. The last is most difficult since Lil’ B. is almost totally emotionally detached and forcing them to the surface can be painful for him at times.
Trust me. We’ll be at every appointment. I’ll do my best to keep from tearing yet another psychologist-wannabe into pieces for causing my child distress and we’ll get him into the school he so desperately needs, but I don’t like it and I won’t like it. I won’t be happy until Lil’ man is done with the process and getting the help that everyone is promising. that means two assessments this week, one next week and who-knows how many the week after.
I’ll be good, I promise. He needs me to be, so I will.
Peace. I’m out.
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I wish I was there with you. Our son is an amazing kiddo. We’ll all get through this. Somehow. I miss you.