Reminders

The other morning after dropping off Anthony to school, Daniel and I headed to the doctor's office for his annual checkup. They've gotten too big for me to take them together (at least if I don't have another adult with me), especially since the doctor's office isn't their favorite place. They like their doctor and the nurses just fine - at least until they want to physically interact with them.

We've gone to the same doctor since the boys were about 13 months old, so the office staff and nurses know them on sight. They know both boys have Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). It helps because they've seen how the boys react to different things over the years, so they will ask when we get there if we'd like to be put in a room or stay in the waiting room. It always depends on how many people are there, what movie's on the television and how long the wait is going to be. They know there could be a meltdown if something isn't just right.

When it was time for Daniel's appointment, we take off his shoes an try to get him to stand still long enough to get his weight. Yay! Got it pretty quickly with no outburst. I wish I could say the same for his height. That took quite a bit of convincing and he still proceeded to fight. He hates to stand straight against the wall and have that ("measuring thing" they use) touch the top of his head. We've worked on it and some days he does ok with it... some days not - but we did manage to get an "approximate" height.

Then comes the wait in the room - the nurse comes in and asks the usual questions... then comes time to take his temperature, check his blood pressure and check his pulse. The nurse is relatively new and keeps telling Daniel what she needs to do... ok. I say, "Daniel - look at me. The nurse (her name) needs to... you can do it. Just like at home... touch the thermometer, we need to "tickle" under your arm... watch the baby crawl." Daniel, of course, decides he wants no part of it. So for the next 5 minutes or so I hold him and tell her to "just do it", while I continue to explain to him just what she's doing. I can only imagine what someone must think if they walk by the room and don't know who's in there.

Once everything is done of course, Daniel is just fine. No tears, no sign that he had a problem with anything. He's ready to wait for the doctor now... he's gotten some energy released. He's let us know that just how he feels about being there. Daniel proceeds to walk around and around and around. He touches everything he can reach, he's stimming (self soothing behavior). He'll try to swing things with cords in circles, run water in the sink. I have to move the doctor's chair out of the room because he's never content to just spin it around and around with his hands. He'll want to sit on it and spin around... shoot, I'd like to sometimes too.

Then the doctor comes in and asks the usual "checkup" questions... Sick lately? Appetite? Diet? Problems with any meds? Asthma under control? Drinking milk? Potty trained?

Daniel's gotten pretty good at letting the doctor "listen with his ears" (that's what we call the stethoscope). He'll let him listen to his heart and lungs. He'll start to contest when the doctor wants to look into his eyes, his nose, his mouth, which... he... is... not... going... to... open! Then the ears, which involves a really, really big hug - holding him so he can't move. Otherwise everything is fine.

No checking vision, no hearing test, at least not at the regular doctor's office. Those require specialists. Being non-verbal and autistic makes for a very interesting combination when it comes to specialists.

At the end of the visit, I am completely reminded of the differences between my son and stereotypical kiddos. All of these tasks that many parents take for granted that their children just do - all reminders of what my babe doesn't or can't do. That's ok, I have never considered myself "normal" - whatever that means, so I don't expect my family to be either. I do wish that certain things were easier for him though. The best part is that he is "healthy" and growing well. That makes me very, very happy.

From a mother's heart - those subtle reminders we receive that tell us our children are different than the "average" can also remind us that our children are indeed special. And sometimes special isn't bad at all.
God Bless!