Part 1: The Diagnoses – By Kristin Selby Gonzalez Director of Autism Education for Enzymedica Mother of Jaxson, diagnosed with autism

The Diagnoses

As if possessed with the focused determination of a marathon runner, my son sprinted around the kitchen table over and over again. The two evaluators glanced at one another, sharing a knowing look. I wanted to shake them. Don’t trade silent thoughts and leave me in the dark!

Over the past year Jaxson, now two and half years old, had been evaluated by a neurologist and two psychologists. Each visit preceded by a four-month wait, as well as 20 pages of medical forms-every time asking the same questions. I racked my brain for a good reason why these professionals could not simply share my information with one another, but could come up with nothing to justify what was happening.

My son’s simple repetitive behaviors, avoidance of eye contact, disinterest in people, and utter lack of verbal communication pointed toward autism. And yet, despite twelve months of begging for answers, pleading for help and suggesting outright that my still non-verbal son might have autism; I had wrung not a drop of clarity from the dry cloth of the medical profession.

An hour had passed. I asked them for their opinion based upon their evaluation. I was desperate to know if they thought my son had autism. “You need to have your son evaluated by our psychologist. We’ll set you up with an appointment,” one of the evaluators explained.

Great, enter doctor number four. I held my sarcasm. “When would that appointment be?”

“In about six weeks.”

“Six weeks? Do you know what I have been through trying to get some answers for the last year?”

“I am sorry, Mrs. Gonzalez. The soonest we can get you and your son in is in six weeks.”

Anger at these two women, fear for my son and frustration of the system that was set up to supposedly help me collided in a messy tangle of emotions. I couldn’t help it, tears flowed down my cheek.

I know that crying in front of these strangers would only reinforce all of the hysterical mother stereotypes they already walked in here with, but I had already passed caring. I turned toward them, my glaring eyes burning through my tears.

“You look at me. Look at me son. We have waited long enough. I will be at the psychologist’s office, with my son, first thing tomorrow morning. And make no mistake we will be seen.”

The two women exchanged worried looks.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Gonzalez. That’s just not possible. The soonest we can get you in is six weeks from now.”

They worked their way nervously toward the door.  I helpfully opened it for them and, as they exited, I repeated my voice flat, “Jaxson and I will be there first thing tomorrow morning.”

My son was diagnosed the next day. Validation never tasted so bitter.

Link to us at:  Enzymedica – http://www.enzymedica.com/blog

Home: Enzymedica Blog