Last night I dragged the boys to the doctor at an hour that they should have been heading to bed. Noe has been suffering through a cold for the past couple of weeks and I was fairly convinced it was time to pursue some medication. Ed was working late.
We walk into the doctors office and I am immediately assaulted by two nurses. They heard Noe's breathing and thought he was having respiratory difficulties. I had to explain that he was "stimming." Since he got his cold and can't breathe well out of his nose, he has become an obsessive heavy breather. It's a little bit disturbing, if you're not used to it....although I can track him through our house much easier now.
An hour wait later, we finally saw our medical professional. She walked into the room while I was on my belly trying to rescue Asher's trains from the underparts of some medical drawers. Noe was sitting up on the standard doctor's office bed (he likes the crackily paper). The doctor looked concerned about Noe's precarious position on the high bed. I said he was fine. And then he immediately fell onto the cement floor.
Noe was ok. We proceeded. The doctor tried to examine Noe at arms length in a very high-pitched voice. She had seen his autism on the chart and assumed he was aggressive. I finally told her straight out that he wouldn't hurt her and to examine him normally. He had a sinus infection and a temperature of 100 degrees. I had sent him to school today. Way to go, Mom. I got the magic little slip of paper that permits me to drug my child into oblivion, and then we were off.
On the way out, the nurse who initially helped us came and gave me a big hug and told me that I was "such a good mother." I get this a lot at the doctor's office after they see Noe's diagnosis on the chart. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate this much more than the alternative....whispers and accusatory glances or whatever other hell mothers with autistic children were made to endure when Freud reigned king and autism was thought to be a condition caused by a mother's lack of affection. But it is still funny to me. I wanted to tell her...THANKS! We're headed to the gun club now....can't start them off too early. Then we'll probably do a little bar hopping and call it a night.
But seriously, I did appreciate the gesture. And the drugs.
We walk into the doctors office and I am immediately assaulted by two nurses. They heard Noe's breathing and thought he was having respiratory difficulties. I had to explain that he was "stimming." Since he got his cold and can't breathe well out of his nose, he has become an obsessive heavy breather. It's a little bit disturbing, if you're not used to it....although I can track him through our house much easier now.
An hour wait later, we finally saw our medical professional. She walked into the room while I was on my belly trying to rescue Asher's trains from the underparts of some medical drawers. Noe was sitting up on the standard doctor's office bed (he likes the crackily paper). The doctor looked concerned about Noe's precarious position on the high bed. I said he was fine. And then he immediately fell onto the cement floor.
Noe was ok. We proceeded. The doctor tried to examine Noe at arms length in a very high-pitched voice. She had seen his autism on the chart and assumed he was aggressive. I finally told her straight out that he wouldn't hurt her and to examine him normally. He had a sinus infection and a temperature of 100 degrees. I had sent him to school today. Way to go, Mom. I got the magic little slip of paper that permits me to drug my child into oblivion, and then we were off.
On the way out, the nurse who initially helped us came and gave me a big hug and told me that I was "such a good mother." I get this a lot at the doctor's office after they see Noe's diagnosis on the chart. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate this much more than the alternative....whispers and accusatory glances or whatever other hell mothers with autistic children were made to endure when Freud reigned king and autism was thought to be a condition caused by a mother's lack of affection. But it is still funny to me. I wanted to tell her...THANKS! We're headed to the gun club now....can't start them off too early. Then we'll probably do a little bar hopping and call it a night.
But seriously, I did appreciate the gesture. And the drugs.
No comments:
Post a Comment