OK! OK! I Get It!

So I've been thinking a lot about getting N evaluated for more than just speech issues. Like maybe getting him an eval for some sort of overall behavioral/social/sensory issue that might explain some of his more problematic quirks. Part of what's been holding me back is that I'm loathe to pathologize him for the quirks that make him unique and funny and special. But the other part of me says that he's having such a hard time in preschool right now and in some other areas of his life, and maybe there's a simple or even not-so-simple answer to what's going on, and I could do something to make his world a little simpler and more navigable.

The truth is, though, that there's more to it than that "oh, I'm so concerned for my son's welfare" crap up there. There's also the fact that getting him an eval for that stuff means me doing a lot of legwork. Which means phone calls. To strangers. Which I hate--HATE--doing. It means deciding between developmental pediatricians and occupational therapists; it means trying to figure out who is right for N and me; it means appointments and follow-ups and so on and so on in a schedule already squeezing me so tight I think I've broken a rib.

Anyway, I was leaning toward seeing a developmental pediatrician--not because I think that's the better route, but because Tamar (who I'm too lazy to llink to; she's in my blogroll) knows one who's good, and in my neighborhood. Actually, I believe that he'd be better off with an OT assessment; I don't think he needs the big guns of developmental pediatrician. But hey, if the referral fits...And besides, I wouldn't even know where to START to look for a good OT.

Which only goes to show you how insanely dumb I can be. To wit:

We were at WeeyumWise's birthday party yesterday, and there were a bunch of parents there from the university's preschool, all hanging out together while the kids play. It was nice. After all, it was the first time in a long time I'd gotten to just sit and talk to J, who works...wait for it...as an OT at the university. There I was, talking away about how I'm a little concerned about N, blah blah blah, and then I literally hit my forehead.

"J!" I said. "I cannot believe I didn't think of this before! Do we have any child OTs you would recommend?"

Did she? Only about five or ten. She's going to send me their numbers today. And they'll be totally covered by my insurance, as are all our university's health professionals.

But wait. That's not all.

After dropping N off at preschool this morning, I stopped in to talk to the director about the ongoing issues with N not participating when Weeyum's not there.

"We're doing all we can from our end," I told her. "I'm even working on getting him an OT evaluation, to see if there's anything there." (Well, I am now. So shut up.)

She started to laugh, and then pushed a clipboard across the desk at me. On it were the names of approximately 25 OTs and OT students who were going to be arriving at the preschool within minutes. Why? To observe the kids, of course, as part of their training. And to evaluate any of the children who the teachers thought might have issues they could use help with.

(One of the huge benefits of having your kid in a preschool on the campus of a major academic medical center is that they get seen by more pediatric, physical therapy, occupational therapy and nursing trainees than you can shake a trike at. These kids are constantly being evaluated, played with, observed, whatever. Not that I remembered any of that before this morning. Or at least I didn't put 1 and 1 together...)

So, within minutes, I was shaking the hand of the very nice woman who was leading the students, giving her N's name and a really brief idea of what I'm concerned about, and she was going to marshall her forces, and they were going to be sure to pay special attention to him today, and they'd let the director know what they think, and she'll get back to me within a day or so.

I mean, really. It would be ironic, if it weren't so...obvious. Nothing like having your face metaporically slapped by god as he shouts, "Get a grip. Open your eyes, you damned fool!"

So, um, yeah. Maybe I'll get N an OT eval one of these days. Or today, even. I'm on the case, finally. Even if I have to be led every step of the way.