Friday, April 15, 2011 

Dear Dr. Blahdy Blah

(This is the way I wish I could write it. I will edit out the snark and keep it grown up and professional when I send it. I may hurt myself in the process.)

Effective immediately, we are moving our children to another pediatric practice. Since you were unwilling to hear what I had to say during the last five years, I decided to put into writing the reasons why. I hope that you take the valuable advice I am about to give you and pull your head out of your ass.

At Youngling's 18 month well check, I voiced concerns about his development. My biggest concern was his never ending tantruming. You brushed me off as a neurotic mother, telling me to put him in time out. I asked you if you had children, because putting an 18 month old into a time-out is akin to drinking water out of a sieve. You admitted you did not, but that is what you would do if you were a parent. Wow, thanks.

At his 3 year check-up I mentioned I had concerns about his development again. He had lost some words, and the tantrums were even worse. You told me he was hitting all the developmental milestones in the books, that I wasn't structured enough in my home, and that there was nothing wrong. I told you as a seasoned mother of three (one of those three already diagnosed with SPD) that he wasn't. But you stayed up all those extra nights in college so you were right and I was wrong.

At his 4 year checkup I mentioned that I had concerns about his development and now so did his teacher. I had already heard from you how I sucked as a parent, and now his teacher was telling me, too. Both of you were so helpful giving me books about discipline! Gosh, maybe if I read all those books for the tenth time, the information would sink in the way it hadn't the previous nine. Words couldn't begin to express how thankful I was for all your help! By the way, in case we aren't clear Dr. Blahdy Blah, this is called sarcasm. At this visit I brought up a very difficult word for any parent to think, let alone say aloud. This word starts with an A and has a very famous logo that looks like puzzle pieces. You again treated me like a neurotic mother (thank you so much for that, it did wonders for my self-confidence) and sent me on my way.

Finally, at an emergency 4 1/2 year well check you gave me the referral to the specialist I had been asking for. You only did this because the school district had evaluated him and found SEVERE developmental delays. You know, the delays I had been asking about for the last three years. Since these people were professionals with fancy degrees and titles, you listened.

When I went back to the regular 5 year well-check with a diagnosis firmly in place for anxiety disorder and SPD, I waited patiently for an apology. An apology which you failed to give. In your mind, you followed the textbooks and the guidelines and you did nothing wrong.

I am here to tell you that you did do something wrong.

You undermined the confidence of a concerned parent. You delayed getting an amazing boy the services he needed. You delayed getting a family the support they desperately needed and deserved. You? Were epic fail.

Now, here we are almost five years later and I am finally hearing experts say what I suspected all along. He is autistic. I finally have validation. After 5 years I can believe I'm not a bad parent, and I don't let my children climb the walls like monkeys and slop out of troughs like pigs. I felt that way because of you. What happened to "first do no harm"?

Respectfully, Dr. Blahdy Blah, what would have been the harm in the referral? Worst case scenario, I would have paid a few extra bucks out of my pocket to hear I was wrong. Youngling would have had a few extra performance tests. So what? I, as a parent and patient, was willing to do that for my child.

I may not have a degree in child development (ironically, I am working on that now) but I do have a degree in parenting. I minor in compassion. You are lacking in these two key components. Might I suggest that in the future you take a moment to recognize that it is painful for a parent to admit to themselves that something is wrong with their child? Might I also suggest that you take a moment to listen? Even if a child is hitting the milestones in a book, there could still be something wrong. Listen.

So, Dr. Blahdy Blah, I want you to know I have lost my confidence in you as a health care provider. I will be taking my children to another practice that treats the whole child, not just the boo-boos you can put Band-Aids on. In the future, please realize there are other hurts, and those hurts run much, much deeper.


Also, pull your head out of your ass. (Yes, I said it at the beginning, but I was verbose and you may have ADHD. You never know.)

Sincerely,
Kirdy Chaos

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The journey continues....

Youngling is autistic.

Do we have a formal diagnosis yet? Well, yes and no. We go back to the specialist in May. Reading his evaluation from the specialist I see phrases and hints of things I wasn't ready to hear a year ago. "Pervasive developmental problems" is one. Hello?! PDD-NOS anyone? I went to college, got a degree in English, and I completely missed that? Obviously, in the area of reading comprehension we can safely assume I was stamped with a big, fat "FAIL" in red ink.

I mean, I've suspected it for that year. The kid is massively, consumingly obsessed with Legos. And Star Wars. And Lego Star Wars. He lines things up in rows. He repeats silly noises that he hears. Has no volume control. Is obsessed with Legos. No. Really, really REALLY obsessed. And can have like an hour long conversation about them.

At his IEP review last night the district psychologist told me she suspected he had Asperger's a year ago, but I clearly was not ready to hear it. Slap some ginormous feather on my ass and call me an ostrich. (No, seriously, please do....it might hide some cellulite.) But here we are a year later, my head is out of the sand and I am able to type those first 3 words without having a box of Kleenex at the ready.

It's a beginning. The first solid step I've taken into our future. Thankfully, it wasn't on a Lego.