Autism Therapy: weight gain

Bastille Day. Also, visit-the-neurologist-day. Woo-hoo.
I do not understand what it is about these children that they absolutely CANNOT shut their little mouths for FIVE MINUTES while I talk to the neurologist. They were good and well-behaved until she walked in the room and that was it! They were acting like they do when I’m on the phone: like I’m standing around, doing nothing, waiting only for them to make some request of me. I broke it down, and every minute I get to spend in this doctor’s office costs $25. I had to ask her to repeat herself more than once because the kids were acting like we were at the park instead of the doctor. Then, after I finished my disjointed and frequently interrupted conversation with her, she dropped a bomb: She wanted Thomas to have blood drawn to check his liver and kidney function, and also a CBC.
I have lost count over the past few days of how many times I have told Thomas that there would be NO SHOTS at the doctor. Technically, I was right; there were no shots. But somehow, Thomas didn’t see it that way. The doctor told us that we could just come back tomorrow or the next day so that we had time to prepare Thomas, but this hospital is a good hour away (on two expressways that are both under construction) and I decided to just bite the bullet and get the blood drawn today. What jolly fun we had! Actually, the phlebotomists thought the kids were both hilarious. Thomas sat on my lap and screamed his head off while Hayley held her hands over her ears and said, “Mommy, this is CWAZY!” When they took the needle out and slapped a bandage on his arm, they offered him stickers and he said, “But I wasn’t well-behaved! I don’t deserve stickers!” We left the lab as both techs were doubled-over laughing.
Anyway, Thomas did a lot better with the neurologist’s exercises than he did last time. He successfully completed almost all of the things she wanted him to do which is a great improvement. We decided together that he should try an increased dose of Strattera, moving him up to 18 mg from 10 mg. We’re going to stick with the current dosage of Clonidine because he hasn’t gained any weight since his last appointment, which is good. A side-effect of Strattera is weight gain, I guess.
I just wish they would behave at this doctor’s office. No matter how I threaten them or try to coax them or cajole them beforehand, NOTHING works and they’re always a pain. I wish I could see this doctor without Thomas (or Hayley) having to be with me. I guess it doesn’t work that way.
In my last blog I mentioned that I was trying to get Thomas to do some writing over the summer. We did have a successful “writer’s workshop” about a week ago. We all sat down and drew a picture and then decided what to write about it. It took a lot of waiting and asking pretty-please to get Thomas to sit down and do the thing, but once he sat down he drew a nice picture of several cars on a street and then wrote – mostly by himself! – “there are 5 people in the cars.” I was so proud of him that I wanted to scan the paper into my computer and e-mail it to his teacher. In the end, I decided to leave her alone and let her have her summer. I was so tickled that Thomas even seemed to be happy with the whole thing because of my favorable reaction. We’ll try again soon. It’s just nice to know that Thomas hasn’t forgotten how to read and write since school got out. Actually, he did a much better job than he used to do in school every day, writing most of the letters and sounding out most of the words himself.
While at the doctor, we got her to sign a letter I drafted for anybody at Disney World who might want to see it. It outlined the reasons why Thomas can’t be expected to stand in long lines or be around people for too long. Really, the reason we’re going to get the Guest Assistance Card for Thomas is not for his own comfort or our sanity. It’s more for the comfort and sanity of innocent people who might be standing near us. I shudder to think of what might happen if we encounter metal queuing-area fences. If he’s got anything in his hands to whack against the metal, there will be no survivors. Anybody in line with us will be doomed. In fact, I’ve decided that’s a good thing to say if there are any rude looks or inconsiderate comments from any other patrons in line while we move modestly up to the front. “Trust me buddy, you don’t WANT to wait in line next to this kid! Wanna read the letter from his neurologist?” I’m sure everyone will be perfectly courteous and understanding.
We’re still swimming as often as we can and trying to fill up the kid’s summer days with fun activities, but it’s hard. The weather (I know, again about the weather!) has not been consistently warm or sunny, or I have to work that evening or we have a doctor’s appointment…it’s always something. We should (God willing) be done with doctors until January, so that’s good. Well, except for the pediatrician. Hayley had a check-up last week (along with a Hepatitis A booster for Thomas…I’ve never heard so much screeching in my life) and absolutely REFUSED to pee in a cup, so we’ve got to give them a sample sometime.
I’m not fooling anyone, least of all myself. It’s never going to get done, and I’m not making a special trip to the doctor with Hayley’s urine so they can dip a stick in it and tell us that all’s well.