just a few forms

*

The waiting room is crowded and chaotic. We have hurried to get here.

Stuck in awful traffic, Brooke and I bolted out of the car, deciding it would be faster on foot. We’d left Luau and Katie to park the car and meet us inside.

We had scooted along as well as we could, trying to make a game of it. Autism and Hurry are a combustible mix.

We’d made it, only ten minutes late in the end and not too much worse for the wear. A minor victory.

And now we sit. It is obvious that we’ve entered a place without regard for time. We needn’t have run. Not by a long shot.

Luau had started filling out the forms, but I’ve taken over. I need to DO something lest the nervous energy bleed out onto my girl. So I answer question after question about my daughter.

I hate these God damned forms.

Tell us about your pregnancy.

What did you do wrong while you were pregnant with your child? What did you NOT do? What do you not even remember that you did or did not do?

Tell us about labor and delivery. What was her APGAR score?

That hour – was it two? three? I’ll never know – when her temperature was too low and I couldn’t be with her.

That awful time that my body ached for my baby and itched from the morphine – the tears streaming down my face, burning the skin that I’d already rubbed raw. They wouldn’t bring her to me. God, I just wanted my baby.

Over and over again I’ve wondered what it all meant. The morphine, the low temperature, the lost time. 

Her APGAR score?

Seriously?

I ask Luau. He doesn’t know either.

Do better parents know such things?

Tell us about her development.

What couldn’t she do when she was a baby? A toddler? What can she STILL not do?

What delays did you not notice because you were too busy pretending that everything was fine?

When did she learn to ride a bike without training wheels?

Yes, that was actually one of the questions.

She’s eight. We haven’t come close to trying. Thanks for the reminder. 

Where is she relative to her peers? We’ll give you three choices – better than, on par with, worse than.

Wow, little harsh when it’s so black and white. How about ‘not quite there but damn, you should have seen her last year!’?

No?

No. 

Things don’t come easily for my girl. God, when it’s written out like this, it’s an awfully long list of things that she struggles with. 

Tell us about your family history. All the details. Tell us everything you should have known before you had a baby.

Yes, there is an extensive history of mental illness in my family. Bipolar is big. Depression, anxiety. Check. Check.

Luau’s side is blank.

It’s me.

All me. 

I simmer in an irrational soup of fault and blame and guilt. 

I hate these God damned forms. 

Does she have any medical conditions?

Interesting phrase – Medical Condition. I turn it over in my head. She has autism – a neurological disorder with attendant social, emotional and behavioral challenges.

Is that a medical condition?

One would think certainly think so. But after diagnosing her, you folks – yes, you, right here, in this very place – sent us to her school system for ‘treatment’. Is that the way one treats a child with a ‘Medical Condition?’

Curious, that. 

Yes, she does have a medical condition. I write it down. 

Original diagnosis 5/ 06 Autistic Disorder, revised to PDD-NOS 6/09. I skip the attendant pervasive anxiety disorder, the coordination issues.

I’m weary.

They’ll figure it out. 

Does she receive any type of therapy / see any specialists?

Two lines ain’t gonna cut it here kids. I write as small as I can.

Speech therapy 5 x wk, OT 1 x wk, full time aide in the classroom, BCBA consult, developmental psychologist 1 x wk, developmental pediatrician 4 x yr, full neuropsychological eval 1 x yr. What am I forgetting?

Medications?

Yes, please. 

Oh, not what you meant.

Celexa for anxiety. Metadate for attention. Melatonin for sleep. 

What brings you here today?

Fear. 

It’s 2:55. Our appointment was nearly an hour ago. Brooke has her hands pressed against the window, looking out at the city below. She’s running through a script from Elmo. “Are you two OK? Yes, we’re fine, thank you.” It’s the one where there’s a fire in Mr Hooper’s store. I kiss the top of her head. She leans into me and launches into her signature squealy hum.

I can no longer move my right hand, so I hand the papers back to Luau and he finishes writing.

Concern regarding episodes in which her eyes roll up to the ceiling. Possibility of seizure activity. Following up on EEG upon reco of pediatrician. 

Luau and Katie head down to the lobby to grab a snack. The doctor finally calls us in.

He’s a doughy resident with a round, pimply face. He doesn’t look comfortable. He says nothing about the fact that it is 3:10 and our appointment was at 2:00. He doesn’t look at the stack of papers in his hand.

“So when did you first notice this happening?”

“Well, we started to see it on Sunday. It’s hard to say how much it was happening. As we don’t really get to see her head-on as much as one would with a typical child .. ”

He interrupts me. “What do you mean?” He looks genuinely confused.

Now I’m confused. “What do you mean, what do I mean?”

He actually says, “Why don’t you see her head-on?”

I take a breath. “Because a child with autism tends to avoid eye contact  …”

He looks at her. She’s pulling his antiseptic wipes from the container, one by one. He looks at me. He looks at the stack of papers in his hands. “She has autism?”

No one has looked at the paperwork.

“Yes, she has autism.”

We start over.

I want to throw up.

54 thoughts on “just a few forms

  1. Oh honey…

    In some gallows humor of our own, DH and I used to joke that if M’s issues were genetic they were his, if they were environmental they were mine (it took over two years to even get her a preliminary diagnosis which eventually ruled out PDD and pointed to a combination of both inborn and environmental – congratulations parents, you both win) – and I came very close to decking the last person who asked me about her birth (in a car, followed by polyscythemia and refusal to let me feed or hold her for several days) and then her early months – sibling rivalry (thankfully gone now but it was awful at first), then a 2 month long gastro illness which culminated in traumatic weaning and major food issues that we’re still dealing with years later). Like I said, after years of these intake meetings I’m ready to hit the next person who asks me about it…

  2. oh…I hate those forms too. Nothing brings up every fear and anxiety and self-punishing feeling like those forms. I’m sorry you had to go through that again. It all makes me want to throw up too.

  3. I have decided not to let loose the trail of expletives I had intended, as I figured it would get me deleted in a New York minute. So. So.
    He seems like a jerk. :-/

  4. Reading this post brought me back to all of those dr apts we went to when Jeff would turn lights on and off, when the dr., younger than I was, wearing acid washed jeans, told me to look up autism in the library…seriously??, a trip to Yale where we learned nothing new but had paper work in hand to navigate the next 20 years of getting services…fragile X when the dr came out to double check that my 2 1/2 year old was actually 50 lbs. The neurologist who waited for months to get an appt and then the day of waited hours in his office for him to ask the proverbial question where is your nose?? This is what we are paying for and then he never helped us with medication.
    Thank God for our wonderful pediatrician with the perfect name, Dr. Helper who truly helped us along the way on a regular basis. Not only did she care about Jeff but our whole family including Bill and me. Forget the specialist, give me someone who cares about my KID!! It is never easy, Jess but we manage and make the best for our kids.

  5. How about we don’t fill out the forms since the don’t friggin read them anyway. And why must multiple forms ask the same information?! I can’t believe you held it together without screaming. God Bless you and please don’t blame yourself – you can not accept the guilt of your dna. You are an incredible Mother.

    • thx, love. i don’t really blame myself, at least not consciously. but that deeply stuffed crap comes sneaking up on me sometimes, ya know?

  6. Forms. I hate filling out those forms and it is for that very reason that I have 1 patient information form for new (medical) patients to fill out. And the questions cloaked with disinterest, oh no you ditn’t resident. Oh. No. You. Ditn’t! I know I know, lead with compassion and share with grace. Ya I would fail that miserably if I were in the situation you are describing.
    And BTW, no looked at your daughter either…..

  7. Oh dear – I already feel me not liking this guy. Adjectives are spinning around my head at lightening speed – I will settle on dufus just in case children read this blog.

  8. God, how I hate that!! Happens way too often – why bother making us fill out all the forms before hand just to spoon feed it to the doctor when he sees us!! No wonder the wait is always huge!! Makes you want to scream!!!

  9. 😦 what the heck kind of doctor is he?! This makes me want to write “Ask me and take notes” on all forms in the future.

  10. Oh…..all I can say is know that you are not alone. I dread the pile of “paper work” and everything it represents-which you so beautifully painted with your words. We will be doing the same in just a few weeks. Please know that your words help me to know that I am not alone. I thank you and I am sorry you had to go though this. I am sorry that you all had to go through this.

  11. I hate it too! I hate that not only do you have to pull out the A card in full force when at various doctor’s appointments, but we’re often educating the newest set of practitioners as well. Don’t we go to them for help? Aren’t they supposed to be giving us insight? Ugh! And boy oh boy do I feel you on the guilt. When I was 7 months pregnant with Jonas I fell down a flight of stairs and broke my leg. It was absolute hell. So, yes though I asked and asked and asked, the doctors assured me that it would be okay to administer morphine to me, that there would be no affects on my baby. As I was in so much pain that all I did was cry as my pregnancy induced swelling of the legs shifted my broken bone again and again, cutting off the circulation to my feet due to the plaster cast that they put on me (which they had to remove 3 times and replace due to swelling until they finally got genius enough to put a removable walking cast on me) and couldn’t even take some Advil, I relented and went for the morphine and a few days worth of Tylenol with codeine. My husband was not pleased. He disagreed and was so angry that he spouted something like “If anything happens to this baby….it’s all on you.” And it is, isn’t it? The joke’s on me.

    • oh good lord aim .. that’s awful. and your kiddo’s autism is no more your fault than my baby’s is mine. i pray that you know that.

      • I do know it in my heart of hearts. For a long time I carried the responsibility burden, but I realized that it wasn’t helping anyone, and for whatever reason, whatever cause, my little man is impacted by autism and that is all that I need to contend with because that fact will not change, no matter the origins. But it doesn’t change the fact that from time to time I think about it and wonder and sometimes feel some real guilt. It was awful to say the least. It is quite a story that I find myself now laughing about as I retell, but at the time it was not a joking matter. I’ll have to write about it some day, but I must sayt that it is far better told in person. 🙂

  12. I’m so sorry this happened 😦 Don’t you wish they would bother to call you and tell you they were running late? If I knew they were running an hour behind, I would simply leave my house an hour later, and less waiting room disasters might occur. At the very least, an apology would have been nice.

    They should make medical students read blogs like this…so that for one small second, they might just “get” it…they might just understand what it’s like to be on the other side of the white coat.

  13. You are so not alone. Zoe is on the same meds — except it’s Fluoxetine instead of Celexa. The anti-depressant is supposed to help with the “tics” caused by the Metadate. It makes us nuts.

    And docs CAN be truly clueless sometimes. But I’ve been volunteering in a neurology office for a while, and I’ve found that a lot of the time it’s circumstances that make the doctors look a lot more clueless than they are. For example, sometimes it’s because they didn’t have the time to see the papers before you come in. Appointments are so easily screwed up — just one patient showing up late or being scheduled for the wrong time slot (a one hour patient put in a half hour slot, for example), or one secretary spending too much time on registration, or another secretary forgetting to put a patient’s chart together before another appointment…

    And, Jess, please: would you quit it with the blame-game? It’s NOT all you or all anyone. We don’t even know what autism is, let alone what causes it. And, by the way, Katie is more than fine — she’s a wonder!

    Mental illness runs in both my husband’s family and mine. We didn’t know it until our daughter’s diagnosis but a cousin of his had autistic like behaviors as a child and HIS son was diagnosed with autism. No one blames my husband or his family.

    My daughter’s neurologist did a study on maternal enzymes and found that I carried two of the three that attack fetal brain tissue in a particular way that is common among mothers of children with autism. He also found that autoimmune diseases running in families tends to increase the chance of autism. My mother died of MS (autoimmune) and I have hypothyroidism (also, autoimmune). No one blames me or my family.

    We don’t have the time or energy for that kind of silliness, and Jess, you don’t either. You’re too busy being an amazing mother, a poetic and powerful writer, and an advocate for all of us.

    Love and wish I could meet you and your amazing family in person,
    Jenny
    momofzoe.com

    • thx, jenny. as i said to angela above, i don’t really blame myself, at least not consciously. but that deeply stuffed crap comes sneaking up on me sometimes, ya know?

      i promise i don’t spend time nor energy there ‘in real life.’ but in the time suspension of a waiting room and the torture chamber of filling out medical forms, well, all bets are apparently off 🙂

      xo

  14. I hate those forms also. I just had to fill out some for my little guy, Braden 3yrs, to go to the Colonial Intermediate Unit #20 preschool… All the same forms over and over and over. I called and asked if i could just copy his binder and send that.. “No, Please fill them out to the best of your ability, and we will discuss everything else at the meeting…”. Great! I sent back forms that were half blank because he doesn’t talk and half their questions were about how much does he say. Or can he ask this? Or does he say that? No, he doesn’t talk, but he tries real hard, and has come so far from when we started. We see the progress they have made from where we began. I am tired of the forms and lately I haven’t even been answering some of the questions because every time we go back, I have to start at the beginning again with ..”He has autism…”

  15. When Cymbie had her evals for school, I felt the same. And when my dad read her evals for the first time, he put them down, looked at me, and said “Is she really that far behind? I guess we don’t see it that way because we love her so much…but seeing it all laid out in black and white is pretty harsh.” Harsh indeed.
    It’s a long list when I talk about every thing that went wrong in my pregnancy with her. And don’t feel bad…I couldn’t tell you her APGAR score if my life depended on it.
    Lots of Bi Polar, anxiety, depression in my family too. Cymbie’s Dad is Bi Polar (one of the main reasons we are divorced). You question your history, and question your choices, and feel the guilt. I’m there with you.
    But Autism? Never. No one in either family. She is the first. It baffles me, it breaks my heart. I just wish I knew where things went wrong and why….

  16. I have said for years that filling out those forms are a form of torture for parents. Nothing like seeing on paper how “less than your child is” And then to not have anyone read them…..well, I can’t say what I would like to say. We recently encountered something similar and I promised myself that if it was clear that the Dr. didn’t read the forms I was asking for my money back and ONLY after giving them an earful. Thankfully, for them they did read the forms (or at least skimmed them). I work in the medical field and there is absolutely NO EXCUSE for not being prepared.

  17. This sounds SO much like the neurologist I saw for my speech loss. She was 2 hours late (and it was only 10am!), was rude, treated me like I was really unintelligent and 2 years old, never looked at my paperwork, spent less than 5 minutes with me and told me that it was all psychological but wouldn’t tell me why she thought that.

    Ughhh. Sadly, I’m used to it.

  18. Ugh, I Hate filling out those forms too. I Hate the Guilt I get every time as I write that my son is one of three on the spectrum on MY side of the family. It kills me every time I am reminded that he is almost 12 and still can’t ride a bike without training wheels, still is not 100% potty trained, the list goes on. The forms don’t allow for the small steps of progress he HAS made like the fact that he went to a friend’s house…without mom or dad, or either sister, for almost 2 hours, no, they just want to know what he Can’t do. When we took him for His EEG a month ago the Nuerologist informed us the EEG appeared “Normal” but that EEG’s are not the end all, as in order to show seizure activity they have to be timed precisely within 24 hours of a seizure event…ummm with Autism and lack of eye contact, how can I tell EVERY time He zones off?? and then proceeded to tell us to fix his sleep habits by locking him in his room and taking away his night light…REALLY?

    I am sorry you are having to go through this with your sweet girl.Know that you are not alone, and that you and your precious family are in my thoughts and prayers.

  19. The entire process sucks. My only relief in all of this is being able to laugh. u have a crazy way of making our struggles lighter, by giving us the opportunity to giggle at them. A giggle that, in any other company, would seem odd and inappropriate.

    THANK YOU, sister! you are saving a life out here. seriously.

  20. again.
    I hate you had to deal with someone who wasn’t up on it (just a GLANCE before he came in the office, please?)
    and just know, my heart and love and prayers….with YOU. and your dear family

  21. Reading this made me cry!! It is exactly the way I feel everytime we go to any doctor. For us as well my husband’s side is always blank and an Apgar score in the huge sweep of things that have happened since the birth of our Adrian how on earth would I ever remember such a thing? The when did your child first ride a bike? Our son is seven and we have attempted this feat but have not accomplished it yet. There are a million other things that are way more important that he has accomplished however like talking. That one was achieved at four years of age!! Be grateful for the little things because those are what matter most and make the biggest impact!! Right now we are tackling potty training. Riding a bike just does not seem important in comparison. Thanks for the wonderful honest post 🙂

    • thx, love. i don’t really blame myself, at least not consciously. but that deeply stuffed crap comes sneaking up on me sometimes, ya know?

      AMEN

  22. As I read this, I kept thinking to myself how eloquently you hit the nail on the head for so many parents.

    Those forms are agony. Just agony.

    One thing I remind myself these years later is that they do not wholly represent my child; it’s almost fitting that the resident knew nothing of Brooke, given the terse and impersonal nature of those forms. A one-inch space to describe treatments? How about they give you 6 blank pages to describe your constant worry, fear and anxiety? I’ll bet you could fill those up in 10 minutes.

    And I’ll bet that they’d likely go unread, too.

    They are poor representation of your child for a seriously flawed system and a medical community that still doesn’t get it. In that, I hope that you and others realize what we’re dealing with.

    It’s not any sort of lack or deficit on our children’s part.

    It’s theirs.

    xo

  23. I’ve wondered if it was some perverse game they played with us. Can she tell the same story/relate the same info with the same details to 3 different people? Do the nurses and doctors compare what I said to each of them to see if there are any discrepancies?

    The worst was 4 years ago when K broke his elbow. We started at the Urgent Care where I filled out forms which were ignored and I had to explain everything. The Urgent Care sent us to the Children’s ER hospital because the break was bad enough that it needed surgery. So I got to fill out more forms which were ignored. The doctor comes in to check K, pulls up his shirt to listen to his heart and says” Whoa! What’s this?” And I say, “Does he have a rash?” The doctor says “No. The scar.” I almost lost it on the dude. I so wanted to say “Seriously, you don’t need to know how to read to get through med school?” What I did say was “It’s on the form. I told 3 nurses. He has a heart defect.” The doctor started flipping through the paperwork. And then I got to explain the Autism. Good times.

  24. You know what’s scary? I actually felt the anxiety tightening in my stomach as I read this post! Oh, Jess, once again you hit the nail on the head. The question about how my child compares to other kids makes me want to challenge the writers of these forms to a duel…of words, since I prefer to slice with metaphorical rather than literal knives. So my child is 7 1/2 and doesn’t ride a bike without training wheels…but could your 7-year-old watch a bunch of old guys playing guitar on TV and confidently proclaim “Hey, there’s Albert Lee and Brian May of Queen!” I’m not sh*tting you…he said it and then I had to look them up to find out who they were. So, no, I guess he’s not “on par” with your child! Hee hee.

  25. APGAR? Haven’t a clue what my daughter’s was. I was knocked out for that emergency C-section. (She was fine, my placenta suddenly wasn’t).

    I hate the frackin’ paperwork. Sorry, my stress from dealing with my children and you bozos here, makes it difficult for me to remember exact details of every moment of my and their lives. You get what you get.

  26. Exactly. I’ve been through this over and over. Try to let them know, hate to use the word “warn” and the message never gets to them. Opthalmologist appointments are a circus. A screaming, sweaty circus. Pediatric glaucoma we’ve dealt with, and conquered, mostly… long, long before we knew about Autism. So you’d think the docs know him… or would at least know we’re not stupid… but no. No, he won’t look at you. No, he won’t let you shine that thing at him. He’d be happy to shine it at you. *sigh*… thanks for sharing, Jess.

  27. Here via Twitter and, boy!, can I relate. I have most of a filing cabinet drawer devoted to our copies of autistic youngest’s paperwork. Every time a service provider comes up with a new program or changes designation, we do it all over again. Page after page documenting everything from prenatal issues to exactly when you began every kind of service under the sun.

    As you note, what’s more maddening is that you do all this work and nobody pays attention to it, anyway. They just shove it away in their own filing cabinets, I presume.

    • welcome, jliedl. and you know, i have to wonder – is it just a CYA thing? so they can say they asked? filing cabinet indeed. and circular, no doubt.

  28. I hate the forms. I hated more the conversation I had with the school nurse before her evaluation. Asking me how my pregnancies I had and how many live births did I have. WTF does that have to do with her having Autism. Not much imo. Just a reminder that I have two less babies at the moment.

  29. You could literally write every single verse of the star spangled banner on those forms and they’d never notice, put all one’s for apgar scores and write in swahili and they’d STILL never notice. Sigh. Now I just reiterate my kids medical history from memory when the MD walks in.

    I’m banging my head on my desk for you.

    • I’m banging my head on my desk for you.

      thank you for that.

      i mean, i hope you didn’t, but it was a sort of hilarious image. 🙂

  30. As the mom of a kid with autism and a doctor I have to agree with the discontent over the dreaded forms. It is ludicrous to ask patients to fill out 5+ pages of info and never even glance at them. It is not hard to take 30 seconds before entering a patient’s exam room to look at the forms, or perhaps go over them in the exam room with the family. I think the autism moms and dads out there need to speak up the next time this happens…

    • agreed. but it’s so hard when you’re trying to manage your kid, keep anxiety at bay (theirs and yours) and you happen to be waiting for potentially terrifying and possibly life changing news. tough time to start telling someone how they should be doing their job, particularly when it’s so painfully obvious. but i understand your point. if we don’t speak up, there’s no reason to think it might change.

  31. That’s awful. Uusally when Im at a drs appt I dont have time to finish the forms an they tell me thats ok but thats for a family doc and not a specialist so….anyway sorry about that!

  32. God I hate that. It’s like when I recently took my son (Aspergers) to Kaiser requesting an OT evaluation of why he eats to the point of vomiting. They gave him a psych evaluation for 4 hours, never once physically examining him. “We don’t think he has AS, we think he has an anxiety disorder.” “That wasn’t the question.” The question was never answered and no we can’t see an OT because we don’t think he has Aspergers. So my son has to suffer daily. GREAT ****ing system, our healthcare in this country!

  33. You know, thinking about it again today, what frosts me even more? It’s when they make you fill out all the forms and then REFUSE to read them first “because they want to hear it from you and form their own impressions”.

    *headdesk until bleeding profusely*

  34. Yes, so very frustrating indeed. I searched far & wide to find a doctor somewhere in our area that would know anything about autism. I was overjoyed when I found one within 15 miles that was listed as a DAN (Defeat Autism Now) Dr. Finally! Someone with a clue about what we were dealing with. Boy, was I wrong. She was obviously annoyed when Jackson was touching things on her desk and kept saying “oh, don’t touch that please”, which of course he had no idea of what she was saying. That was my first clue of many that she had no business listing herself as an autism provider. I left there knowing that was a colossal waste of mine & my son’s time & needless to say we haven’t been back since. Unfortunately all too often we are the “experts” in autism.

  35. I don’t know if you are still reading the comments on this post but I was interested as to the medication.
    I know all kids react to medication differently but our son was put on Concerta (metadate)last year (after being on basic ritalin for 4 months) and it changed his personality completely,(mind you he had a teacher that just did everything wrong and wouldn’t listen) and he became quite anxious and from that quite aggressive and we had to increase the melatonin to get him to sleep which eventually he was able to tell us he was having nightmares, happens if you take too much melatonin I discovered and we weren’t giving him that much – the nightmares were waking him up around 3-4am. We took him off the metadate and went onto normal ritalin but around 20-30mg and he was just still so anxious but not so aggressive.
    In December when our school year finishes and we have a 6 week holiday, we took him off the Ritalin, the anxiety has disappeared, the aggression has disappeared and recently ie in late April we suddenly didn’t have to give him melatonin anymore either, well only twice in 2 months. I don’t know if it was the teacher that caused the anxiety and the metadate exacebated it or the other way around but it caused the worst 6 weeks of our life! ot only that, I rarely heard my son laugh last year and he has a wicked little sense of humour and that was the hardest thing to live with, we seemed to lose him..
    Just 2 cents from someone that Concerta (metadate) didn’t work for although I am not saying that it wouldn’t work for others, I just wonder how much it actually causes anxiety which you are then having to treat.
    The other thing that concerns me is that doctors say that it doesn’t take long to get out of the system, I think it took ages but again it might have been the stress of the year that took about 3 weeks to dissipate.

  36. I never know what to expect with doctors appointments…the specialist visits are always like this too…plus when you take on a new therapist – ugh! I’ve often requested the intake forms at the time of the appointment (email or mailed to me) so that fill this stuff out before hand…cause filling these out with in the waiting room is always a mess. Medical history is always hard to summarize in the few lines that you get and I’ve doubted that they even read the few lines any ways…..

    What often gets me is the “quick” visit to walk in care because your functional non-verbal child has been up all night miserable and could some please just check his ears to see if something is going on? Well, it is never quick and it frustrates me to no end trying to explain why I think something is wrong with questions like…”When did your son tell you about his ears?” “Why do you think it is ears” ….Ummm he is non-verbal….I don’t know what is wrong with him, but something isn’t right as neither of us is getting any sleep (the little that we do get) could ya just check the ears? The ear check does finally get done and….oh, look there ear infection confirmed. Sometime I wish I could go and get certified for ear checks to cut out the middle man!

    Plus loved the time the walk in care doctor (that met my son 5 minutes ago) told me that he didn’t think that my son was non-verbal and he was talking…why didn’t I hear that!?! Of course this was in his 30 years of experience….yada yada yada…..I was thinking could I please just get the script for ear meds. I wanted to yelled Hallelujah! You’ve cure my son!!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s