The Wart Doctor
My daughter enjoys a play date at someone else's house. The boys and I wait in the waiting room. We are always the last appointment of the day, a huge consideration for the doctor. His daughter, now an adult, is also on the spectrum. He is patient, gives choices, speaks simply and clearly. He is swift and gently firm. I expect he is similarly professional with all his patients, but I can't help feeling that he gives a little more with mine.
We are alone. The sniveling heap is curled up on my lap, turtle style, all 72 pounds of him. I stroke his back and try not to count his xylophone vertebrae. His little brother does his best rendition of 'waiting.' He knows what is to follow. The screams may not be as loud as his own, but he's not used to the competition. His coping mechanism is to sit briefly on the wooden bench and then fall off onto the carpet covered concrete floor. He does this about four times in every minute, with an accompanying 'ooof!' We take our proprioceptive input where we may. The oral fixations are in full flood too. He slips two fingers in and out of his mouth, interspersed with raspberry noises and 'where is the bathroom! where is the bathroom! where is the bathroom!' This ritual speeds up the longer we wait, but he remains in the room so I am more than satisfied. I am in the habit of giving them free reign when it comes to coping mechanisms, as then I can learn, then I may be able to modify and adapt.
The outer door opens and a woman with three children enter. Each sits down in silence. One reads a book, one plays with electronics and the little one, the toddler sits on her mother's lap. My lapster doesn't look up. The little sucker continues and pays no heed to the other people, as he's already on sensory overload.
Mercifully the nurse comes to call his name.
As I stand the other mother steps towards me to touch me lightly on the upper arm, “you know, I watch a show called Supernanny. She's British too. You know, it might help.” She smiles at me in a knowing manner.
Help with what I wonder?
today I am also over here at “Trusera” with a piece about “Speech Delays.”
Or in the alternative “One Man’s Meat – play dates for autistic children.”
April 12th, 2008 at 11:07 pm
Help with what indeed.
You know I’ve watched exactly one episode of Supernanny — one about the family of an autistic child. It was horrible. Apparently Supernanny’s job is to berate the parents about what a bad job they are doing until they cry and then tell them how they should be doing it — then leave them to their newly enlightened devices.
April 13th, 2008 at 4:06 am
I saw that one too… bashed it well on my blog. It was a “look you can fix all in 30min or less”… Uh huh…
I was surprised she approached you like that. Since I’m not going to get my parents today, playdate is still on.
I’m thinking maybe we can bake cookies if I have enough supplies.
Sheri
April 13th, 2008 at 5:04 am
The funniest part is the comment “she’s British, too.” As if that would make you say, “oh, that’s what I needed, I didn’t know what to do b/c all these Americans can’t help me, but if I have a British person, well then I’d be able to fix my kids up straight away!”
I’m glad you have a doctor that works well with your children. That is all too uncommon.
April 13th, 2008 at 5:10 am
People who feel entitled to do that kind of thing make me seethe. I do my best not to snap, because it is so unlikely to do any good.
I’ve not seen the autistic child supernanny episode – but I have seen a couple of episodes of parents who simply ceded the house to the kids. What is upsetting is how often we encounter this problem of being assumed in dire need of some help if our kids are stimming. Why does stimming upset NTs so much? Or am I just underappreciating the effect of having become so accustomed to it that I can tune it out? I doubt it.
I feel a wave of relief when I see another kid in a waiting room, queue, or playground behaving like mine. I figure for once I’m not going to have to explain, and neither is the other mother.
April 13th, 2008 at 5:47 am
YOU need “supernanny”? The lady with the kids who have to be glued to electronic games to be quiet is telling YOU how to raise a kid? Oh please.
I love my mom, but she keeps nagging me to see this stupid show. Like this lady can wander into my house and fix anything. Now, if she wants to come in and clean…
April 13th, 2008 at 7:25 am
ugh…the presumption masked as concern. i’m sorry you have to deal with people like this.
April 13th, 2008 at 7:48 am
Amazing, isn’t it? I’m with Lori, the best part of the entire comment was “she’s British, too.” Best to get out of the way of these “helpful” Americans as quickly as possible, don’t you think?
April 13th, 2008 at 7:58 am
ROFL! Oh my the ways people **think** they are being helpful…
I could picture exactly the scene with your boys…especially the turtle on your lap. Rather sweet to envision, actually. LOVED your comment about taking proprioception where we can! So true!
April 13th, 2008 at 9:40 am
wha!??!?! That is such an amazingly discriminating statement! Help with what indeed! Help you CONFORM your children to wills of one and never have any expression of themselves. pssha … Your boys (and your parenting) is perfect just they way they are …
April 13th, 2008 at 10:18 am
Perhaps she simply thought you looked a bit homesick and perhaps seeing a fellow Briton on the television might be of some comfort?
April 13th, 2008 at 10:30 am
HA! I’d have laughed in her sweetly judgemental little face.
April 13th, 2008 at 2:34 pm
I can’t watch any of those nanny shows. I get to angry…
Not sure what kind of warts you’re dealing with, but M’s got some and her dr is treating her with some special goo she hand imports from the US that doesn’t hurt like the freezing does. (I’ve had the freezing myself, it’s awful.) The goo does cause sores afterwards (sort of “explodes” the warts I guess) but there’s enough of a delay that M doesn’t mind going to the dr because she doesn’t identify one with the other. Of course she’s much younger, but I figured I’d throw some assvice out there anyway, just in case.
April 13th, 2008 at 3:28 pm
What you describe sounds SO different to kids who are misbehaving!
Thank you by the way for altering my perceptions. Just after I read this, we were headed out and DD had STILL not done her hair as asked several hours earlier. It’s one of those things she hates, and if I do it she will scream and flail and do her best to make it impossible. Thinking of your description of coping mechanisms, I decided not to keep telling her to “Stop it!” Instead I encouraged her to flap her arms and to make wailing noises (not screaming though!) She eventually collapsed into giggles and it was the easiest hair-combing session we’ve had in a long time! Thanks Maddy! Now to see if it will work a second time!
I didn’t know the freezing for warts was awful. I had one removed from my face that way once and I do remember it burned. I have an appt. for DS to have a verruca seen to on Friday, and I was hoping the doc would freeze it away.
April 13th, 2008 at 7:04 pm
It is funny how clueless people think they know everything.
April 13th, 2008 at 9:09 pm
Ugh. I was on the receiving end of a “Nanny 911″ referral too a few years ago. I had handled something poorly with my younger boy, then 3. I found that this had only made it more problematic to accomplish anything else until I could help us heal the rift and move past it. I was trying to tell my friend about this during a phone conversation. She had just seen a Nanny 911 episode and no matter what I said she heard it in terms of me having ‘given my power away’ to my son. It was very frustrating and I finally had to end the call. Later she apologized, to her credit.
I liked what ‘lime’ said about ‘presumption masked as concern’. I’m going to have to remember that; it’ll come in handy some day.
How old are your boys? I know your younger daughter is 10, same age as my oldest boy.
April 13th, 2008 at 10:02 pm
I don’t think you’re the one needing “help” at all—–I’ve learned to give the “ingratiating smile” and get on with it.
April 14th, 2008 at 6:22 am
I would have laughed out loud at her. I know this because I’ve been in that exact situation before. I also liked the ‘presumption masked as concern’ comment. That’s exactly what it is. Sounds to me like your boys were coping very well indeed.
April 14th, 2008 at 2:40 pm
I’m sorry; I just went blind, for a moment. So this is what they mean when they say “blind with rage.” It actually affected by optic nerve!