Showing posts with label therapy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label therapy. Show all posts

Thursday, February 7, 2013

On Therapy

Update:  Gigi is still in ICU but is doing much better and has started Physical Therapy.  I flew home Sunday.  But my dad and uncle have been with her, my sister is taking this weekend, and I’ll go back out next weekend.

Gigi’s PT is timely in that there’s been quite a bit of discussion on line lately about therapy and ableism. There was a discussion on FB a couple months ago that I chimed in on, followed by this blog hop.  In short, if you haven’t been following along, some parents argue all the various therapies we inflict upon our child are a convoluted, albeit well-intentioned form of ableism.  That, in our efforts to “normalize” our kids, we are just as unaccepting of their differences as the twit in the Houston restaurant.

I get it, I do.  Therapy is a massive black hole of time and money and there is rarely any immediate payoff.  There are strange people in your home who know you only run the dishwasher when you run out of coffee mugs (and we own dozens of coffee mugs).  There may not be any pay off – your kid may never end up walking, talking, or reading.  You may have just spent $10k a year on the biggest healthcare scam since they touted apricot seeds for cancer.  It’s also quite likely that your kid would have ended up mastering most of these same skills eventually in their own time, therapy or no.

So why bother?  Why not just take your kid home and love them, let them run around with their siblings and the pets and pick things up on their own?  If they don’t - if walking, talking, and reading doesn’t come naturally – if you really, really loved them it won’t matter to you.

I work full time.  More than full time, mostly.  I am the antithesis of the helicopter-/Tiger mom.  My kids get almost no after school activities and I expect them to play independently when we’re home.  That said, I am their mother and it’s my job to ensure they learn to navigate the world they live in.

Do I “teach” them to navigate their world or do they learn?  I didn’t have to “teach” my son to walk or turn doorknobs.  He figured it out on his own, thru exploration and observation – and for years after would climb into our bed in the middle of the night.  Hoping to avoid a repeat of all that headkicking snuggling, I purposely hadn’t worked on this with my daughter.  You know what?  She figured out those doorknobs all by herself.  She figured it out a couple years later than her brother, but she got there in her own time.

Did all that OT help her? Help strengthen her fingers and fine motor skills?  Did it speed up the great Doorknob Benchmark by 6 months?  A year?  Or, had we gone au natural and therapy free, would she still be stuck kicking her door in the morning, demanding freedom and breakfast?  Who the hell knows? Who cares?

Well, I do actually.  First, she was frustrated because she was awake, wanted the day to start, and there was a door literally closed to her.  Second, she really was kicking the door and I didn’t want to have to buy a new one.  I can make a good case this frustration led to her increased focused on doorknobs and this coalesced with her developing manual dexterity, finally allowing her open doors, but there is not a doubt in my mind that the hours of pushing, pulling, & pointing in OT got her finger strength and fine motor skills to the point where she could grip and turn the knob.

Do I think of this as normalizing behavior?  Would I value her less if she still couldn’t open the door and had to keep kicking? (Depends – what do new doors run?)  Do I find her less disabled because she can open a door 6 months earlier than she could have sans therapy.  Bullshit.

In my old age I have taken up running.  When my brother signed me up for my first half marathon I hadn’t run more than 3 miles in probably 15 years.  The most I’d ever run was 6, and that was while I was in the LAPD and there were guns involved.  I wasn’t going to end up running 13 miles sitting on my ass in my living room – I had to practice.  I started with 1 mile on day one, went 1.5 the next week, and 2 miles the week after…. My muscles slowly got stronger and my lungs more efficient (sadly, said ass has not shrunk).

Gigi is 94 years old and has had a rough week lying on a hospital bed.  She needs support as she starts to stand and move around again.  As devoted as her sons are, her physical therapist has more experience teaching older patients how to safely navigate corners, stairs, and use a walker.  Would Gigi regain strength on her own?  Probably – she is one tough lady – but she loathes hospitals and wants to go home.  She wants her independence back.  PT will get her there faster and safer.

Everything I’ve read about Down syndrome suggests most kids will master the basics but it will take them longer and require more repetition.  They will need to practice-practice-practice.  Reading will come, but thru sight words - seen, shown, reinforced and repeated a gazillion times – not thru phonetics.  Do I not bother to teach my girl to read because the process won’t be as natural as teaching my son what sounds the letters make and letting him loose in the library?

I don’t think of therapy of anything more than practice time.  I can’t imagine how it equates to breaking a child’s legs to make them an inch or two taller in adulthood.  As a working mom, I find a concentrated hour of practice time to be critical – if I were home all day with my child I could sting beads and build blocks with her to the same benefit but that’s not my world, so we have to practice when we can.  One mile at a time.  And that moment is not at home, exhausted after 10 hours at work & day care, while the spaghetti cooks and I’m rooting around for a coffee cup to put my wine in.

I am not teaching my child to be normal.  I’m trying to teach her – yes, in hour long increments if I must – how to be independent.  I wanted her to walk as soon as she could, not because I gave a flying fuck about the milestone, but because as soon as she started walking, she could find her own toys, come give me hug, and empty out the cabinets.  That is “normal”, but it also opens up a whole new world for her to explore.  Her little neurons started firing faster when she was able to rummage thru her toys and select the best one, when she learned to seek me out for a hug instead of just yelling, and when she learned that banging lids and pans together for 20 minutes would convince mommy to turn on Signing Time.  

Of course I’d like her to be “high functioning.”  It will, to be perfectly blunt, make her life easier - but her father and I won't value her life any less if she weren’t.  A girl capable of manipulating her own zippers & buttons with all those frequently practiced fine motor skills will require less help and put her at less risk in bathrooms away from home.  A girl capable of clearly communicating with doctors, police, teachers, and Starbucks baristas will find the world a safer and more welcoming place – that's a sad reality but it's true.  There’s no guarantee of happiness, but there are a lot fewer things that can go wrong.  I won’t love my daughter any differently if she never masters buttons or starts talking – if she ends labeled “low functioning” – but I’m not going to not try to teach her those skills, even if we have to do it repetitively, one hour a time at $95/hr.

Full disclosure – we’re actually only doing private speech therapy right now.  I wish we had the money and time to do more.  Not all of our therapists were effective.  We changed.  My advice for newer parents is this:  If you are so overwhelmed with your therapy schedule, cut back.  Take your kid to a park or let them rummage thru your cookery instead.  I once read a parent who wrote they wanted to be their child’s parent, not their therapist.  You don’t have to be their chauffeur either.  If you are starting to feel like your kid is a project, change something.  Therapy is a tool, like any other, and if you don’t like running on a treadmill, try the sidewalk.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

4/31 for 21 I would have preferred to go without the food.

A retired speech pathologist recently offered to do some screening at my son's (Catholic) school.  I was tickled about this because word on the street was she was SEMI-retired and I had a little fantasy running she'd volunteer to provide us some top rate in-home speech therapy at a specially discounted co-parishioner rate, just because she thought my daughter was cute and because the universe felt bad I'd otherwise have to give up eating to cover it (maybe that was the universe telling me something else?) 

Silly me.  Not only do I still not have the nice lady's phone number, I also now have a 3 line referral to the public school system's special ed department for "further evaluation" of some speech "weaknesses" she found when chatting with my son.  My son

I can't decide if I should laugh or cry. 

Lest anyone get overly concerned, *I* am not.  The kid has a better vocabulary and speaks clearer than half the adults I deal with during the day.  If they want to work on his "R"s or whatever else I'm too schleppy of a mom to have noticed, then boo-yah.  He's doing great in school (though parent teacher conferences are in 2 weeks.  Stay tuned!  Surely there are more fun surprises waiting!).  The fact that they're going to offer speech therapy to my son but I can't get more than 90 minutes a week for my non-verbal 3 year old is just....  AWESOME. 

On a bright note, at least we already know where the special ed offices are. 

Monday, February 21, 2011

Panicky Blog. Not fun. Fair warning.

I used to think of my job as the lottery job.  You know - the one you'd keep doing even after?  But then came the kids and while most of the time I still love it, I do end up whining about splitting up my precious minutes.  At my free random-vendor lunch last week someone was worried about their dad, who'd retired, and what was he going to do all day?  I don't think I'd have any problem filling my day.  Mostly the usual stuff - gym, books, little volunteerism, definitely more TV (I jest!).  I also have a love/hate relationship with craftiness, but it's mostly born of jealousy.  Would love to know how to hem a skirt (or, heck, sew on a button), or do frou-frou things in my girl's bedroom. 

Or cook.  Love to do the big meals - Thanksgiving, et al - and the ever more rare social dinner but cooking for young kids is...painful.  My boy actually requests cereal & eggs. Not yummy stovetop scrambled eggs with cheese and tomatoes and butter...eggs in the microwave, cooked till rubbery.  [Yes, I'm sure this is a comment on my cooking. Thanks for making that leap.]  I'm a firm believer in the wholesome family dinner, veggies 'n all... but darn it if cereal isn't a lot faster.  And look!  The kids are occupied - I'll just take a peek over at this one site.  This, and the amount of TV they watch, count among the many hypocrisies in my life.  Also, SOMEONE, who shall remain nameless, seems to have developed some inconvenient taste buds lately.  I did, actually, make her carrots last night.  She screwed up her face and pushed the plate away.  I offered her the rejected orange I'd lovingly cut up at lunch - she tried to cover it back up with the plastic wrap.  That cracked me up.  Not only did she not want the orange, she was going to re-wrap it for me.  Stinker.

But mostly, I fret about her language skills.  We need to be doing SO MUCH MORE.  I should have taken a signing class and be narrating her day away.  We need to be going thru her flashcards daily and working on her letter sounds.  We should be doing more OT stuff, so that she has the fine motor skills to actually sign back.  I had brief passing moments like this when she was on the verge of crawling, and then walking, but I was never concerned she wouldn't get there.  --This-- is constricting my breathing.

I don't think this is one of those things that will come naturally, even if a bit delayed. We don't even have "mom" yet.  This is all on us and I feel like we're failing her.  She's going to be 3 in five months.  Even if we end up mostly signing, we need to be working on her vocabulary constantly.  And nevermind communicating with her extended family.... 
GAH.

So?  We do more.  (much MUCH more).  Just do it.
And that is my sloganized pep talk of the day to myself.

Friday, June 25, 2010

PT at the park

No smiles from the girl -PT is serious business- but the park first thing in the morning?
Right after pancakes?  Days don't start much better than that for him.