When the elusive Speech therapist finally did get in contact with us, she would only meet with us via Zoom. This was the same for the Occupational therapist too. I remember getting the invitation with all the details on and thinking, how’s this going to help? At the time, I couldn’t even get Noah to sit in front of my phone on FaceTime to chat to family we hadn’t seen properly in months! But, desperate as we were, I loaded up the computer and did my best to keep a wriggly Noah oh my lap and hoped for the best.
The Speech therapist asked us all the same questions that we’d been asked before, but I dutifully answered everything as though it was the first time, and then she set to work with her assessment. She raised a posting pig up to the camera and said “look Noah! What have I got?” as she deposited coins. Meanwhile Noah became super interested in literally ANYTHING except the computer screen. He tried to get off of my lap so desperately that it started to feel cruel holding him there, but I needed her to see what engaging Noah was like. Whilst she was blowing bubbles at the camera and saying “POP!” I was doing my best to explain that, it didn’t matter how jolly or excited she came across with her magic bubbles, until we could work out how to engage him, Noah was going to have none of it.
Eventually, my husband came out of his work from home office to quickly grab a cup of tea, and Noah seized his opportunity to escape. He leapt off of me and ran to Daddy shouting “DAAAADAAAAAA!!!”. It was if he was thinking “for goodness sake take me away from this weird woman!” The therapist finally agreed that sessions over video call probably weren’t the best approach, and that she would add us to a waiting list for face to face sessions, whenever they were likely to resume, and that she would make a note for the Occupational Therapist to do the same.
It became abundantly clear that no one reads those notes when a letter inviting us to a video call with the Occupational therapist landed on the door mat a few weeks later. Here we go again, I thought.
I’m not sure how she expected to assess Noah’s physical needs through a screen but we began the process all over again, and I answered all the same questions as I did before (Seriously, why don’t departments talk to one another??). Again it was agreed that Noah could be assessed in person… eventually.
It was around this time that I started to feel a sense of dread and panic. My little boy was fast approaching 3 and his last year before Preschool, and he still didn’t speak or use any other form of communication. I asked everyone I could for things to try, our preschool friend gave me PECS cards (Picture Exchange Communisation System - I’ll write another post about how they work), but Noah just wanted to eat them or throw them at me. I tried giving him choices, he chose to go without. I lost count of the amount of hours I spent scouring the internet for ideas. As far as I was concerned, my son was racing towards starting a mainstream school where not only could he not respond to the teacher, he couldn’t understand them in the first place, and that just wasn’t acceptable.
I decided to take matters into my own hands at this point, and began the process of applying for an Educational Health and Care Plan (thanks to nursery friend for pointing me in the right direction!) but more on that next time…
Remember -
You’re smashing it, and you’ve got this x
Comments